FOR POETRY

  Clouds shatter and scatter, a tender stem dreaming of rain, the snow capped peaks, and a laughing bee, it's Fall night, I say no to a sleepless night, for above all, I wanted to see you. And the night, turned pitch black, yet already ready to blush and for my own good, I saw that you were there, I saw that you were radiant, an emerald upon my warm heart, which beats and beats again with love, my one and only sun. And it came to pass my nightingale, seeing this I understood that it was in a hurry. From now on, all is yours and mine, and madly, without reason, I gave you my heart, I handed you its key. The universe that you open, that you cover, and from which you bring forth beauty. Falling snow keeping watch over the pulse's glow at the summit, knowing your tide which rushes forth and yields what it awaits from you, my love, finally, amidst your tears, a single tear of yours to be your stroke of luck, a wound most faithful, a streak of honey on your skin.

I opened the door and there she was, smiling as if the sun  had finally broken the clouds. "I'm feeling love " I said,  she tilted her head, feathering a question  that teased my pride: "Why must a woman always cook?". I smiled, the quiet smile  of a man who knows irony is love's favorite trapdoor, and answered: "You feed the heart  that takes refuge in a woman and never leaves her alive." She laughed,  a sound like the air itself: "A prisoner doesn't choose his cell. You walked in and locked the door , don't pin the blame on me." I closed the distance, one step to launch my poem: "I'm serving a life sentence,  but life inside your arms is the gentlest sentence ever written." She raised her hand, and something had begun: "If you are the captive, I am the judge of love. My words are never discussed except by a kiss." Right there into poetry, I drew her in my mind like a warrior riding  into a battle and whis...