Chardonnay wine, Chilean Fruit
and a woman furnished
in chestnut tones, hair and eyes
she acquired at birth
blend to create the evening's song.
Outside, the terrace attends her.
Its bistro table and chair
seat a lady who waits
for the past to arrive,
who listens for the light blue
chime of goblets,
who longs for the soft bite
of teeth sharing the lovers' mark
on melon, pears and papaya.
Their sign is distinct, etched
delicately as if to say
this is passion, a fine art
that molds the night. Even now
dusk remains subtle, rolls in slowly
splashing shadows across the sky.
Shore birds scatter, wings drift
soon configuring a white .
shower of ashes. Are they his?
This woman has learned
a sailor never dies. His spirit
mingles with salt and coral,
with dreams that sink
and rise again to feast
on longing known
to reunite lives, their shadows floating
between the sandbars of sleep.