Poetry (26)

Hello Escritori,

Apologies for lateness!

20151212_134219-1

Elegy in Springtime

Am I dead?

It must be so,

For after it’s thought,

My thought has no echo.

 

It is the season of pastel skies

And pale gold narcissi

And it is twilight.

Every kiss

If it were eternal

Would look like the light

In this, precise moment.

 

I make a libation

To Love,

With a cup of spring rain,

Dress the corpse of the day

With the roses of dusk,

(Blooming westward)

Touch its cold lips,

With my fingertips

At the gates of

Night’s necropolis.

 

And I know the birds

Will sing, ever thus, and

There will always be

A Spring

Where we shall remember ‘us’

When ‘I’ am gone from ‘you.’

 

And where we need no language:

Aside from what is true.

 

(© Copyright Pola Negri 13/12/2015.)

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