Distracted, my thoughts lose their thread
and, stunned, pause on your
face,
on your verses, when we speak;
on the yearning gaze
of your beautiful eyes
and on your delicate hands.
Today, your dream awakens me…
If you inspire,
my nakedness will be the canvas,
where your brush, proud,
will draw fresh flowers,
over the winter closed
with dew, which crackles like frost
in your temperate orchard.
Wander through my body,
you will pray for my desires;
I will set the tone for the hallelujah you will sing
in your creed.
And, kneeling, my soul
will beg you for an offering:
May your caresses be verses,
before the dawn lights up.
docpoetry
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