After Reading a Poem
Red, red, red, like the blood drop on your fingertips
Or the petals of a fresh Rose - What was the purpose?
Or did the Fates pull our strings together: to my lips
bring your fingers now so I can heal the pain, my Rose.
Wait, wait, wait, a hurricane may twist and throw
But a girl’s heart cannot be moved, not so fast,
Or it will crack and break with the first moon’s glow.
Which do you prefer? Beauty or time to last?
Oh, time, time time, because beauty will ever win
And her victory must endure more than a smile
From the angel when he saw God’s love within.
The bosom of first maid halting time for awhile.
Words, words, words, I must be very watchful,
They can make my face red as the same rose
that drew blood from my fingers: Never dull
but dangerous for a girl with so much to lose.
Silence, Silence, Silence, the Sun and the Moon
make no sound facing each other in the above
sky, then, why would a bride and her groom
needs any words to continue with their love.
Copyright © João Camilo | Year Posted 2013
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