“I am not afraid. I see what you are.”

Ámbar is a poem from scattered notes I wrote while at a café with a friend I care for deeply. It brings me a profound nostalgia and introspection, set against a mundane yet personally meaningful setting.

“The moon changed my face, but my brother dances still.”

So far, one of the most obscure things I’ve written.

“Are you still there? You may as well have passed.

Enough regrets remembering our past.”

“We wandered under the countless stars.

The winter breeze but warmth in your presence.”

An intriguing challenge I set for my students motivated me to write this poem. Each one had to compose a narrative of precisely 100 words, all without using adjectives. Recognizing the difficulty of such a task, I, too, ventured into this creative domain, albeit in Spanish, to prove its attainability. This poem is a tribute to them, showcasing the profound depth and insight that constrained writing can unlock.

I want you, but you could never be mine.