Poetry
SHE
I see a young woman walking alone at midday
through the alley's sun-drenched silence.
Standing with a hand on the window grill
I wonder where she will go.
A complete stranger
yet for an unknown reason
a shadow of affection for her,
redolent of the scent of rain on dry earth
descends on my soul.
I wonder if she will walk like this
one day and enter a slimy darkness
or if unfathomable moonlight
will rain on her the rich pollen
of passionate love?
But let her rest
for the moment
in the serai of these lines.
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