Winter's coming in more senses than one, snow falling on the ground and staying on the hair, eyes watering by lust or by age and yet...love will be the same inside the heart, even if never reciprocated, even if love never touched us with a gracious finger.
Love will be there and thus will make us a less defective end product of God.

Flames like Hawaiian dancer on the beach,
a burning log in the fireplace spits sparks
disturbing for a moment the soft dreams
of a nearly inaudible purring of a tired cat,
while a dog, quite shy of anything on fire,
only one eye half open will watch the night.

Rocking chair and a blanked on my knees,
wandering thoughts, remembering the life
that was consumed like that log in ashes
of an ever searching for love, lonely man,
too late now for start collecting any regrets,
it was my fault, didn’t see her passing by.

Dry Autumn leafs like forgotten old letters
telling that Winter’s coming, no doubts about,
feel in the bones that there will be less of them
to protest all the weather’s whims or its ice
which will cover the memory of what once was
but that our youth didn’t stopped, let it to pass.

My trembling hands holding a crystal goblet,
a sip of brandy and feel the fire going down,
a tear in my face caused perhaps of the smoke,
could remember her just with my closed eyes,
a forbidden juicy fruit from a Paradisiacal tree
that if I ever reach for could have been all mine.

I remember how I wished summer never ended
as my head was hold with tenderness on her lap,
silky fingers telling of me being so longed for,
that I understood it wasn’t a dream, it was love,
she was mine and I was hers, blending together,
two words meaning something, like good-bye.

I will carry her in my shadows trip to beyond,
to where hate or love not a meaning will have,
just both of us shattering a dream with reality
we will born again in other emptiness of God
where man can’t pollute the waters of our river
and where our tender kisses will forever last.