Rainy Afternoon

Rainy Afternoon

He plays me with his eyes..., with a kiss...,
with a broken carnation under the table...
The rain falls in the drain,
and the swirl takes away
hopes, leaves and a kiss.

The skies dissipate, clear up,
turn into  women's curves
that join the baby blue,...
they bath her with green olive parfume,
she turns mysterious, virtuous,
and maybe even cuddly:
somedays sweet, joyfull, subtle,...
and others dim, reluctant, impatient.

The wind, the time blow by,
the leaves erase her face,
her body, her eyes and her mistery.

Goldfinches chirp; they call my name...
and in my mind take me
to the world that is deeply his,
deeply mine, deeply ours,
while flying they draw swift pegasus,
fast gazelles, and tragic lifes,
which in the wink of an eye
difuse and to dust return.

His gaze bast me to my flesh,
and fills me of irrevocable feelings:
pleasant, sweet, huracane like,
invisible and flowing.

Thus, as if in a dream I were
he takes me and ties me to his life,
his love and his soul.

Colors invade us, strip us, and splashes us
with red and pimperlet scarlet silks,
that in shooting madness slip between him and I.
So much and so little happens in a rainy afternoon.