Brazil Poem by Greg Dennison

Your shores extend into the dawn, and for a brief moment we are one.
In silence, my thoughts are fleeting like Diana's arrow piercing the evening sky
as stars burst, drifting upon the cracked tiles of seafoam green buildings.
And, from rooftop to green hills the heart calls out like the trill of a distant flute.
The heart in search of beauty, unrefined.
In a darkened corner or along avenues. Waiting to find acceptance.
Waiting for the sea that is a woman: unpredictable yet graceful.
And I know what I would do:
I would see her sitting alone in an outdoor cafe.
I would walk up and ask if I could join her.
I would buy her a drink and we would speak of trivial things.
Myself, a stranger in her world.
Our eyes would meet in the sunset.
I would smile at her.
She would smile at me.
And, fingers gliding across table cloth-passed an empty glass of ice,
I would softly grasp her hand.
Together, as the evening drew in, we would laugh, she would dangle
her shoe from her toe as the waiter brings us more drinks.
In my arms I would treat her as if she were so delicate as we dance
beneath the stars and the waiter overturns chairs; placing them on the tables.