Pensamentos soltos numa tarde empoeirada pelas cinzas de um incêndio

I would love the most
To reveal to
You
How I slumber, lost,

Leaning my head on
Your shoulder
As I look through
The almost turquoise blue
of your eyes.

I am eager to.

But what promises of flawless portraits
Of fulfillment would I
Inevitably have to conceal?

I'd so keenly hold your hand
Alongside that same southern
Beach were you stroll
Your inquisitions and
Drown your apprehensions

Though the definite perception
Of a mellow afternoon
With your open smile
As a conforting background
Sways in my head
I am fully aware of its
Improbability.

Thus,
I have nothing
To aspire to

other than a sincere

Goodbye

Dressed in the golden
Tone of
Your timid voice
As I depart and
fade high
Amidst the
Cirrus clouds.

08-07-2005