Margarita
Straight, No Salt
You always were
as the crow flies
Supposed, short-cuts to you
Led to meadow death traps instead
In such a rush
To reach no where
Running away from a book’s dust
Your feet are long gone
But then,
Who’s red pumps are those in the corner?
Are those footsteps I hear behind me?
Why
Is our song on?
Rocking my hips, to that slow salsa tune
I hear your heart beat
In that bar
of Barcelona
shake your head
shrug your shoulders
tousle your hair if you have to
just know
that bar
doesn’t close
Waiting, without end
For the lady in red
To have one last dance
On the worn floors
Of that Barcelona bar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i love it a frozen moment (not margarita)