The Beauty of Lita
She meets my stares with furrowed brows
her eyes shining like emeralds strewn
across a blank canvass,
sometimes a question seemingly
waiting to be uttered
but ceasing strangely enough
to be kept by her pouted lips,
never really knowing whether the
radiance on her face
was coming or going,
or just curiously enthralled by
the stillness of her heart from
countless beggings or givings,
for surely
love and guilt was the center
of her beauty
She gleams squeamishly as my
fingers roll gently along the tresses
of her golden hair,
the years have been kind and her
tenderness succinctly blossoms
from the glow of her smile.
nothing can surely be more
paradoxical as her presence in my arm
whilst she mumbles bouquets of words
to her own love.
Delicately she covers herself
in pieces of clothing,
she never was one to carry
her heart on her sleeves
but her ways are as astounding
as the gloriousness of the first day
of spring; or the pattering feet of
the first robin of summer.
Aphrodite surely will not stand
the sight of her lying forlornly
across flowering pillows of orange
and green.
Her selflessness adorns her scarlet lips
as hours and minutes of wisdom
fleet through her mind,
her beauty beholds not only her face
but unravels from the recesses
of her endlessly tired heart
She scrambles amid the gloom
of the dank corners of the room
mindful of the silhouette of her
curvaceous body
fearing when her beauty shall
light my day again.
Other posts by Lito Valbuena
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