Time has passed,
and
inadvertently abused its images,
almost mangling all the frames,
that somehow were passing by me,
and
yet,
I let myself be taken.
I was just a product of a stunning image,
nimble and rethoric,
not yet underhanded,
totally eloquent.
So,
I take this moment to get her from the bottom
of my memory,
as if it was possible to clench a soft music
blown from a saxophone.
… and still,
it was as if in that moment I could touch all
its keys,
from its mouthpiece to the bow…
… From her tight eyes to her mademoiselle petite
steps,
going through her lips,
down to her tummy assuring her feminine
presence,
from my deepest touch
of life musician…
And it was just like that,
if I wanted to have her again,
it was enough to hear those exoterics blows,
and right there,
a frenetic concert would be formed…
Wake up poet,
not even a saxphone do you own!
It is true,
but this music was always an unic song,
and i know that no composer will be able to
compose,
nor even play it in any possible instrument.
And this livid moment with such great
intensity,
composed,
at last,
an alliance with the impossible,
conducted
until it last moment of musical notes,
a chant of forgotten lovers.
And now,
if life allows me,
I will keep her
smile,
even as a sonoric image.
And,
being a musician or not,
I will write all her notes on the palm of my hand,
in the haphazard of my imagination.
And that won’t be all,
I know life will continue awarding me with
more music scores,
and all my livid notes,
will compose,
someday,
somehow,
a full score.
And so,
to the sound of an angelical orchestra, Maybe,
i will finally be able to comprise a real
song.