Your summer dress
comes to rest
upon the balcony
hung up on a thin
wire hanger
(an exotic bird)
it cries for your body
weeps at being
parted from you
& your curves
a pool of tears
collects at its hem
as longingly it dreams of
the touch of your skin
asleep now
in the sun.
Later that evening
frightened by the approaching storm
it tries to escape
the clamour of its hanger
almost flies off
beyond the reach of my hands
run away to sea
seeking for further horizons.
I calm it
tame its panic
fold it tenderly
carry it like a dreaming
child
lay it to rest
at the foot of the bed
where all night long it sleeps
at your feet
awaiting your footstep
the sunshine
of being
you
again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well, some people who have special ears can hear even what the cloths are talking about at the wardrobe, blessed romantics :) . You are lucky to have ears and eyes of a poet, kind a clairvoyant in a rough material world, seeing shadows of the things, talking with the clothes and shoes :) .