Intimacy the colors of a connection
Spilled paint on a free canvas
Eyes like an easel of an apple orchard
Sometimes even the trouble get visitations
We go from profile to profile
From the blatant narcissistic to glimpses
You have become real to me
Pure blue and dawn
Your mind is spring
We walk like two symbiotic murals
I see you walk the gorges of Ithaca
When we look for beauty we become better
Shall we wear enough tradition to have reference?
Celebrate the simple like petting a puppy
Home is a creation of love and respect
Chance seems to be like pi it is there
Clothes say something profound
Without intimacy things are only things
The sea is intimate
Flowers
The forests and sky
But only you wear high heels
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem