Like Penelope who is waiting Odysseus,
I'm waiting on my own Ithaca.
Him who has the constellations all over his face.
Him who shines like the sun.
On the other side of the sea,
waiting in at distant island.
Me who has oil colored eyes.
Me who has give him my heart.
Waiting to hear his voice,
calling my name.
To fall in his arms.
Like Penelope who is waiting Odysseus,
I'm waiting him on my own Ithaca.
- Irene Alex
