tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77389104506466568592024-02-02T12:58:51.516-08:00O ar da Graçagraçahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04466040544618413160noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7738910450646656859.post-73178697776037989762009-09-11T14:39:00.000-07:002009-09-11T15:12:32.224-07:00Rua da minha infância querida....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhea7OqfIXLDXV-V2iNCxSTfy5ntYfwJmF4zRSy-c-A1Qnt2HTGxUORyl-MxT0v5s1KZ972IotQ_PxgjxPSv30jZApXPiUKZP0WlfSDzNOfjBLPVo7ElIv7j9dYttdQ0qfVG3vx-udDg_M/s1600-h/zsruadecima1940.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhea7OqfIXLDXV-V2iNCxSTfy5ntYfwJmF4zRSy-c-A1Qnt2HTGxUORyl-MxT0v5s1KZ972IotQ_PxgjxPSv30jZApXPiUKZP0WlfSDzNOfjBLPVo7ElIv7j9dYttdQ0qfVG3vx-udDg_M/s320/zsruadecima1940.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380329694212910594" border="0" /></a>Quantas lembranças tristes...<br /><br />Poucos e saudosos momentos felizes.<br /><br />Rua escura,<br /><br />janelas lacradas,<br /><br />corações apertados,<br /><br />olhos molhados de chorar,<br /><br />caminhada diária,<br /><br /> um chapéu na cabeça,<br /><br /> uma mão na alça do caixão.<br /><br /> Mas também era rua da alegria das crianças,<br /><br /> das comadres nas janelas,<br /><br /> das serenatas ao som de um radinho<br /><br /> de pilha e acompanhado de um viloão.<br /><br /> Tudo acontecia na rua Santo Antonio.graçahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04466040544618413160noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7738910450646656859.post-26531832225559566152009-09-11T13:59:00.000-07:002009-09-11T14:21:34.111-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7CbN7w56nFz1__yV6s5jRr5xWWOEaKbUsXRGeKv502A4HlesnldnPY-6QK80fzzQetXbIOdAlvsLPGBfrpxHLhdaCXQkzMC9GRPgPCiVbbnWm0aHzHE00td9J1vsWOqnNWzmFNyO-ac/s1600-h/40109669_p.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7CbN7w56nFz1__yV6s5jRr5xWWOEaKbUsXRGeKv502A4HlesnldnPY-6QK80fzzQetXbIOdAlvsLPGBfrpxHLhdaCXQkzMC9GRPgPCiVbbnWm0aHzHE00td9J1vsWOqnNWzmFNyO-ac/s320/40109669_p.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380320086039865970" border="0" /></a> Eramos dois...........<br /><br /><br /> Que saudade........<br /> Lembro-me do poema que dizia: o ninho de passarinho , feito com arte e primor,tb é a nossa vida, feita com amor arte e primor.graçahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04466040544618413160noreply@blogger.com1