If my heart could talk, would you listen to it?
I saw what was hidden, the wind was my ally,
Praying in the sidewalk, before the summit:
You talked with birds, learning how to fly.
If my hands were your eyes, to lift my veil,
we could share the horizon, over the waves,
a young sailor in his ship, learning how to sail:
my skin has secret signs as walls of old caves.
Oh, come to read me! The lamplight is faint,
But the pages are sweet-scented like a rose
Yet to bud and the cover is soft with no taint.
Give me your poetry, I will give you my prose,
The unbroken verses, with your dark and quaint
Handwriting is mine, elsewhere, they stay loose.