Bubbles on the Balcony

Bubbles on the balcony

Forty centimeters would be enough
for it to fit on the armchair.
It's cold outside;
my reddened nose
watches your smile.
The breeze tousles my hair.
It's because of the height that this happens,
(I tell the moon)
that I have company
when the stars come to live on my balcony.
The flock,
night of peanuts,
the taste of serrano ham.
Sip after sip
an auction of foam.