A Bússola das Treze Horas

At thirteen o'clock when the world slows down It's your name that aligns me

from within As if my heart knew the direction even

before thinking. Among the forgotten people, I walk beside you in silence,

being your secret compass pointing southeast just to bring you closer.

Because you are the only point that doesn't get lost on my map.

If your colors darken, I light them up one by

one with my touch, until black ceases to be all you see.

I am your compass in the instant the world bends, pointing to memory.