Lunch
You gazed at the waves
atmosphere smelled of sweat, oregano
and burnt garlic
the server as meticulous as ever
secured the white table cloth
with metal pins in each corner
the wall to our left painted light-blue
echo of lapping outside the window
the octopus on the cloths line
spread a painful cry
as it endured the attacks of wasps
and after I took a sip of my cool wine
I reached for your hand.
You turned and looked into my eyes
and the contention in your glance
warm, indescribable, endless
transcended the small space
of the village restaurant
with the smell of sweat, oregano
and burnt garlic
when suddenly I felt I was in Paradise
and you, my ethereal beauty, sitting next to me
Libros Libertad 