Ximena

Days of late summer fire, nights are black and warm, stars come out like ice, the love of dreaming, especially when not torn always tugs at me, no matter what desire, winds hold a gentle force, they carry all our sighs, love is not for scheming, we lay our smart clothes, to dance across the sea, cannot trace the tides, tell us wehere we're from, no matter who conspires, in the yellow evenings, your eyes like a storm, a name for very breathing, written as a charm.