On this
second day of Autumn,
the breath of her thoughts
hung above me
with the charming resemblance
to thick figurines of white
nimbus in the sky,
invisible and untouchable.
And suddenly, under shadows
of seduction,
I feel the drops of her voice;
falling
at the speed of tender desire.
Soaked in her accent, I solemnly
remain kissing the moment,
caressing ideas,
embracing the rhyme
almost in tears
that filter though the soil of my being.


Like Springtime needed rain.





By Emiliano (Poeta48@aol.com)








 

 

         

 

 

 






AutumnMelancholy


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