The Woman
She is brimming with thoughts...
She is full of regrets...
She struggles between the lines
Breaking her own feelings...
She rises up out of her sighs
And hopes amid the bleakness.
She believes in the lie,
But she feels it in the kiss.
A heap of love,
A pile of hope,
A little ball of dreams,
Carrying with elegance
A smile that hides
Sorrows... or helplessness...
Knowing that all she has
Is her will alone.
With her hair gathered in a ponytail,
To hide away her freedom,
She throws herself in her own path
Carrying her purity.
And often she smiles,
Although she is beneath a cloud,
Loving what loves her,
Embracing with longing,
Gazing with tenderness,
Feeling a fervour kindling,
Speaking with gentleness,
Forgetting her sorrow...
Of all that in this world
Exists and ever was,
Choose one in particular,
Learn it off by heart.
And once you have learned it,
Repeat it without end,
For if you come to lose her,
She is lost into memory.