My girl vanilla and coconut
I have a daughter whom I call, my girl vanilla and coconut,
And it’s because of the fragrance that leaves its presence in its wake,
His absence and even his belongings.
He enters, he runs, he flies, that the hours do not reach him,
That life has full;
I see her a few times if I’m lucky,
But I always smell it …
“! !Hello! I’ll be out in a while! … I’ll arrive, but I’ll come out again! ”
But always at each turn leaves its trace of vanilla and coconut.
Nothing denied her life, she is bright, beautiful, with character,
But in order … a mess because at your pace there is no time for nonsense,
It is a disorder in which I imagine she is immersed,
Well, all its space, but without it, it smells like coconut vanilla.
We are in that stage of life where she is a best seller and
I a good book but old and already forgotten.
That where mothers are for a few years neatly in a little corner accommodated.
None of our experience serves them, she knows much more,
Time was won for her, for me, her mother, the clock was stopped.
And yes, we have disputes, quarrels, misunderstandings,
She makes a funny turn, no arguing leaves me,
She leaves proud and proud, staying drunk and alone
of that vanilla and coconut fragrance.
While having it with me, it is not present,
I wander through your space inhaling as an addict your essence
in the absence, vanilla and coconut …
If the longing is too much, I rummage through their clothes until I find one that, using it on my skin, calms my anguish to feel it away,
Not a far away, a far from inevitable next independence.
And it is shelling this talk that I have noticed
There’s my girl!
When that day comes,
There will not be a bottle in the world that contains enough
of vanilla and coconut fragrance.
Because it will not be the fragrance that relieves the pain of not having you
but remind me that you have already left the nest,
My girl vanilla and coconut.