The ox cart clumps by my tinted window.
Horsemen trot home heaving sacks of flour.
Families of white sheep munch pasteur and mow.
Nicaragua notes of few last hours.
A Mom scrubs child in a metal basin
swollen brown rivers gush across our path
Smoldering volcanoe hypnotized gazing,
belching red hell of Gods´bottomless wrath
Pushing past sentimental snapshots retrieved
and leaving my hypochondriac fear.
The unwritten amongst the notes conceived
is deep in my heart, there is a love here.
Waiting in hotel for my Managua flight,
into the air and Nicaragua night.
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