Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Girl From Salamanca

She talks to me in the night
Whispering in my ear
Telling me stories

During the day, when she is in the bakery
I am free to daydream about her
Such a wispy beauty!
Her curved spine is but another curve in her figure
Like an old tree
Hugging me with its branches
Fingers like branches--
Long; delicate.

In the evening we meet
Dine on wine and cheese
She makes me laugh.
But not my usual cackle...
An unfamiliar sound escapes me,
Richer than the wine or the cheese.
A deep, hearty laugh.

We retire,
The girl from Salamanca, and I.
The phonograph skips
And she whispers in my ear,
Maybe talking, maybe singing, maybe telling me stories
I cannot tell as I sail off to sleep.
I dream not of her, but with her,
Falling asleep in eachother's arms

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