Lost in our shared whim, hungry of your nearness, time unfolds gently, playful, among memories (scattered, unarranged), and the poem turns prose as I fix your image with my mind's eye...
... and how well I understand now this sweet longing for the future, less than waiting, more than hoping, yes, definately we will be needing new words for everything, here...
... but I digress, what I really wanted to tell you is this perfect idle moment I had moments ago, just me and the part of you who lives upstairs, precious tennant of my mind and heart, my inner house never was so pretty before you came to live within me, full of paintings and brushes and colors, and plants and trees, and this awesome National Geographic willow, where sometimes friendly parrots come to exercise their vocabulary and singing repertoire...
... and we close our eyes and think on the african skies, later I will be watching you while you paint, from my hiding place, this is me, exercizing my oh-so-neglected voyeur capabilities, and my nose almost getting the paint smell, and my eyes being mesmerized again by the beauty of your dazzling blue, eyes of unspeakable beauty looking intently at the model, then at the tip of the brush... your hand dances, so relaxed and wise and perfect...
... and this is such a serene moment of plenitude. I see you sitting here, madam, in this sofa, legs elegantly crossed, looking at me with a charming and fun expression on your face "and now what?", and I face you from my chair, and we start laughing, probably, because laughing is better than most things in life, and because this long-awaited rendez-vous will surely be as laughable as it is expected to be beautiful, and now I will kiss you good night, since I have a full dreaming agenda tonight, please do not forget to come and visit.
Sándalo Naranja
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário