Impassioned & seasonless HER

Perfumes of Spring trill against the shadow of Fall
A sense of half knowledge wanders, sniffles, nauseates
Mystifying the unborn fruit of winter
Enfolding the child with caresses and gestures
That would only make her eyelids flutter
In silence. Carrying the kisses with the wind
Till the air precipitates love on her cheeks
With words, reels; like a halo on her visible aroma.
Neither voice nor sight were her weapons
She would play the passive act, roost with agility
Without parenthesis the luminous eyes
Poured delirious youth, untamed, drunk on turpentine.
Every new meeting would make me more ignorant
Clenching along the worm of oblivion
Her interstellar flight like a torrent of snow
Froze the cries of Macchu Picchu.