Lora Colon (26 September 1944 / Missouri - United States)
My days are spent writing poems for you
To the sensual airs of Chopin;
But your silence is all that you give to me,
Just silence, my dear ungrateful man
I carefully select each precious word,
But I doubt that you even care;
Were my eyes intended only for crying.....
And my hands just for clasping in prayer?
I'm not asking for all of your love,
Just give me whatever you can;
I'll walk through flames to your outstretched arms
If this is what you demand
Forever, I dream with my eyes wide open,
Living a life that's not real;
Imagining love that doesn't exist,
With unending tears to conceal
(Don't expect my words to make much sense,
Not today...... the wine is dictating.....
And it moves my pen across the page,
I don't fight it - my ideas were stagnating)
Last night, I imagined you came to me
As a spirit..... no, I don't know why!
The sun and the moon were shining at once,
Crystal stars were dotting the sky
You smiled, then you told me you adore me,
I flew away, but I don't know how;
Kissing your lips, I became drunk with love,
But that's all I remember now
I could only offer you love and a smile,
My treasures are but these precious few;
And when that's all gone...... oh, I know,
I'll save the last dance for you!
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