Melancholy
My hand caresses intimately.
Playing harps, with tight memories of my early dreams of 'love
Entranced by the solid walls of hot baths and steam
My Eyes reversed, white,
on the head tilted toward the high.
With her curly hair, I would have kissed again as I have always done.
Changes that cannot happen,
Like of shooting stars, you cannot win, his passing and time.
I seal my love.
A sad day, the cold air puffing, sweating in my jacket,
Walking faster and faster.
Lilies of the road are whispered,
the melancholy like thorns tangling my heart.
Silly dream, you made me exalt.
Drunk by Bacchus, left me awake intoxicated.
Like a bottle, running along the street, empty and aimless
The steps of time, leave footprints,
retraced by memories of dragonflies
mating in a stagnant pain.
In a deep well at the end of the dream
I woke up with thirsty sadness.
And buried treasure chest lost forever.
poem by Luca Menin
Added by Poetry Lover
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