Space time

On the tree of your skin I draw a summer memory.

I was a sculptor  of  whispers in love with your voice

in the stars dancing in the south of july ...

To the morning tides ,our  languid bodies

like a volcano drowsy with some mixtures...

I loved these bougainvillea  flowers 

that a lighthouse called to shipwreck ,

  off the porto Villa coast ...

Your lips snaked over  salty lemon tequila,

designing rivers over the torrid miday  sun ...

Space burns entangled time ,

in your arms ,midnight falling afternoon ...

Dawn of a july day ,blending the scent 

of coconut  with a Cook island  perfume ...

 During lovemaking ,always ,then who knows ?  

    My love, When the bottle is emptied 

of its message of  distress ,all that remains 

is the wetness of regrets ...

What a delicious story your brown flesh tells !

Island girl on the sands of another dimension

that awakened the sensual melody  

of an ipanema saffron -flavored july morning 

when ice melted only in the Martini delta ! 

 Space softens the wrinkles of time ...