Misha Allport

Limpid eyes, quiet reticence
Reflections in the granite
Distant repose from my heart
Our tired souls find union
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Quasi tactile contact and taste
A light, ghostly attempt to touch
Wet and tender, a sensuous attempt
My woman's lips-Baby, Beer and Love
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Sparkling golden eyes above a Portuguese smile
Tenders forth romantic Westphalian treasures
Bright colours, cold days and verdant splendor
Quiet, gentle, dignity on a Cearan afternoon
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It moves below;
in a tender flow;
like a quiet show;
in a difussed glow;
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A smile, a frown in downtown
A face, a place-How about a case
Dark eyes, a sigh, but no bye-bye
A caress, a kiss-a lot to miss!
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Blending blue-black eternity
Seeking those who have fallen
Bathing the separated lovers
With no promises of rest or joy
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In a haze, floating, curling the pellicle is kissed;
As the sacred Roman procession carries a cist;
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Smooth sable pools beckon depth of illusion;
A darkened terror within a phantom of fusion;
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Movement- within the bounds of destiny;
From bank to bank like not the river Dee;
Fated winds flow across, so it exits at lee;
An elect river remains the same, so it be!
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Calls to me;
to sip a tea;
smell a glee;
not be free.
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Long, slender pearly fingers touch grasping small ones;
Colorful puzzle pieces slide effortlessly around a table;
Mother & daughter engaged in an intimate family ritual;
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A diffusely lighted gallery rolls on to harrow
Framed in a raven tint, the portal-a barrow
Transitional tides in a cloister untold, narrow
pale blue flushes the passages to the marrow
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Well within the banks of our eternity
Sky-blue bloom evinces a sad delicacy
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