A poem for Elvira

There's no more room on this agenda

where the years are slipping away ,

tracing furrows on harvest seasons .

Times scatters the precious adornment 

of a glance offered by chance.

Ink of a word ,the craftsman  didn't 

throw on the canvas...

Regret concerto performed

on some unfinished score.

We've met again in a story 

between Atlantis and Stonehenge 

or an ibiza beach 

when I was a hippie fishing

in the moonlight .

The day after had a taste of  somewhere

when led Zeppelin called 

for evening prayer ...

I longed and pluck for you 

a bouquet of passing clouds ,

bird pecking at the offered fruit...

I loved your solar nudity 

from a maya realm 

and still have on our lips

the offering of that ice-cream 

savored in piazza Spagna .

Space time machiato ...

 Bella Elvira ,

you know ,my hair has become 

white horses ,that no longer

run in the wind .

I write my verses at the stable 

on a little wobbly table ...

Shaking my ink in yesterday 

where Lennon lies for eternity...

     Bella Elvira ...

Old ladies dress for midnight 

and dreaming to the rainy rhymn of past

confide vagrant memories to their umbrella...