A misterious girl dancing in the middle of a village square alone.
Autumn leaves all around.
Raising them in the air as she dances, making my nostrils feel the smell of a comming autumn.
Scent of wet dirt, the first drops of rain after a hot dry summer.
Aroma not fully covering her own scent, of strawberries and tart cherries.
White skin as the moon, with a permanent smile.
Shining between long dark hair like a peaceful night.
Startled expression like a deer when you notice I'm there.
You turn around and it's nothing there but a breeze.
I'm awake.
A blog about life, love, poetry, biscuits, my bohemian wanderings in Coimbra and other stuff of no particular interest.
All sprinkled with sincerity, humour and a LOT of red red wine.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Arrivederci
Arrivederci
I am caught unawhare
this fish has traces of nuts
and a single strand of hair
That is no longer fair
The longer hours
the multiple days
Arrivederci
to my orchid
I've been told
that the old
beggs so
for the gold
on the looking glass
So, goodbye
to screams
and goodnight Irene
The song will wisper
but you
won't hear anything
I am caught unawhare
this fish has traces of nuts
and a single strand of hair
That is no longer fair
The longer hours
the multiple days
Arrivederci
to my orchid
I've been told
that the old
beggs so
for the gold
on the looking glass
So, goodbye
to screams
and goodnight Irene
The song will wisper
but you
won't hear anything
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