“WHEN naked,
you are so smooth,”
said the brook with many stones.
So chirped the sparrows
and roared the bears!
Then the skies spoke, “pitter-patter,”
as drops of stones upon my hands.
What I’d like to see: a trickle of
sweetness like the rain upon the
smooth curves of my lover’s heart.
If we settle down we must prepare
a feast for gargantuan fears
Lest we men and women be alone
upon the beaches, sitting
and shifting their gazes with hands
upon the sea’s clouds or the quietness!
:: 01152016 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 