Poetry…me?


Once while toasting with our Tinto vino Merka said, I cannot toast you if I do not look into your eyes. This was my response. 


When  I looked into your eyes
I saw beyond  the colors there
Beyond the beds where  monsters tarried
Pást the corners where you hid

I saw more rooms there,  bare yet swept clean
The windows polished closed but clear
The rainclouds holding back their torrents
The warmth of sunlight coming near

Travel now beyond these places 
the dark, the light, the colors seen
The warmth the rain, the covers thrown back
Moving with and in a dream