The Girl With The Black Dress Poem by Liberatore Suffoletta

Moon, moon
waxing and yellow.

The girl with the pretty face
is wearing a black dress
out picking raindrops.
The wind, lover of beauty,
grabs her round the waist.
Four riders pass by
on Arabian ponies,
with blue pants and green jackets
and big, dark eyes.
'Come to Boston, sweetheart'
The girl won't listen to them.
Three young sailors pass,
slender in the waist, smiling
with jackets the color of night
and pants of deep snowfalls.
'Come to New York City, sweetheart.'
The girl won't listen to them.
When the afternoon began turning
ashen, with scattered hues of light,
a young man strolled by, wearing
roses and myrtle of the hillside
chewing on basil leaves.
'Come home with me, sweetheart.'
And the girl won't listen to him.
The girl with the pretty face
wearing a black dress
keeps on picking raindrops
with the cool arm of the wind
wrapped around her waist.

Moon, moon
waxing and green.