Idea
of South
Today,
the idea of South rests
near
me
like
a single-hearted memory
born
long before
my
time
I
wake up to its smell, my ever
lasting
lover, teasing me
with
purple flowers
on
one hand, the size
of
the sky
the
depth of white walls
on
the other
I
hasten for a touch
a
plumage quivering my wings
as
if today
would
mean the first -
or
the last -
of
migrations.
©
2016, José Coelho
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