Echo of Stars on the Alleys

Under the noisy sky, the stars lean upon the alleys’ elbows.
They speak in low voices, among bricks and trembling lights.
They tell dreams that the day never dared to guard.
Every star reveals unsaid desires, a house that does not exist, a street remaining in the background.
The alleys listen, curious, marking secret maps with smoke.
And the wind carries names that never found a mouth.
Perhaps tomorrow that dream will be written on the still fresh wall.
The echo bends, it stretches out, and becomes a road for those who try to believe.
We remain here, keeping open the night’s mouth.