Dear Poetry
The most beautiful poem suits you,
written simply, like your own beauty;
with the soft dawn breeze
dancing lightly upon the curtain
as it drifts through the open window;
like a rose half-open—the bloom of youth—
a stanza paused at the break of day.
May the breeze blow ceaselessly,
and you unfold from the curtain’s folds
like a butterfly emerging from the shadows,
your face a trail of light at daybreak
awaiting the rising sun,
your beauty revealing itself in full splendor—
a verse that touches the firmament.
Let the breeze rise from the depths of your soul,
stirring the curtain with a flickering pulse—
your form, a cherished vision,
drifting through the open window;
in your dark eyes, the sea
becomes a mirror of the sky,
with words like lighthouses in the boundless blue.
And should the time come for the breeze to fall silent—
as if a hand had closed the window—
you will dance lightly upon the curtain,
moving eternally within its graceful folds,
your beauty shining in the firmament;
the words in these verses
will speak only of you, forever.
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