Life pranks

I am walking around
up and down the alleys of the village
where the sound of footsteps
is all one with the children's voices
and every little shop
is an invitation to come in,
where every ray of sunshine
lasts a few seconds
and the smell of oven baked sweets
never stop delighting the noses.
Sitting
on a doorstep,
long hair that caresses her wrinkles,
deep
like the furrows of a plow,
there's a woman
absorbed in her thoughts;
she's holding an apricot in her hand,
almost cradling it.
Curious
I walk up to her and I ask her:
"What are you thinking about?"
Her smile is scornful
and without looking at me she answers:
"Sometimes
I'd like to be a fruit.
The more time passes
and the sweeter they get
but for us,
for us,
the more time goes by
the more the bitterness grows."

April 4, 2018