A girl in red and dreams was writing down
the moment of her life ,
confiding in a porcelain cup .
Her black pen tracing the intimate waves
of some piano blues rhapsody ...
A cascade of golden-autumn hair
full of a hold back chignon ...
Burnt chestnut eyes where a few cloud floated
Tears disguised as rain in her soul, grey shade...
She wasn't the Ipanema girl .
I contemplated the soft ovale of her face ,
north wind breath on ephemeral dunes ,
She wasn't the sirocco's daughter ...
The girl dressed in red was just a passionless dream...
Who knows ? Bent over a lover's mourning
undoing the cascade of her offered bun ?
I sensed ,the approach of the storm
and message to the angels ..
Resting her pen on a blank page ,
she casts on me the ink of an inner glance.
I was not a stanza in the theater of her litterature...
The girl dressed in red and dreams has gone ,
majesty of a soaring eagle ,
abandoning a porcelain cup so desperate
to its customers destiny ...
You who pass by without seeing me ,
morning mystery only leaving
an intriguing green tea fragile aroma...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 29th, 2024 07:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell
Offline)
Comments2
An attempt to capture the elusive: the feelings, thoughts and stories that the girl in red carries within herself, not even realizing that someone can read them. She remains a mystery and her reality dissolves into the poet's fantasies. A very enjoyable read!
I've caught a mystery in the timelessness of a life ...
Images that pass through the mind, dreams of what could be sensations of wishes a beautiful poem
A very sensitive analysis !
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.