Poème:In The Turns And Twist Of My Dreams

Yesterday, sat down on this cliff, I thought at her,
So deep that, at twilight, lands were impregnated.
Some crickets and cicadas, with romance, started
To sing what I could not say ; I’m mad about her.

There, reality was decorating my dreams,
Shall you see a sketch of her personality ?
In the heaven, a quarrel with titanic means,
Between the deep dark blue of her serenity,
And the flaming red dressing her burning passion.
Perhaps a divine game between Shou and Hâpy :
A tender breeze undulating with attention,
The river of her temper, adding sensuality.
Sometimes as regular and deep as the
Posseidon’s flapping tempo between reefs.
Often as spontaneous and light as the
Djinn’s whistling melody coming out cliffs.
Her soul is similar to this moon shining :
Lighting a world, a muse making people dreaming,
Just the sensation of a look brushing against me.
So far away, sometimes she must feel lonely
Sometimes, feeling insecure, lacking confidence
Feeding her thirst of mathematical evidence.
Quiet, and mysterious, those are her defence,
Some people dislike it but she’s my preference.

Like an oneiric world of magic and beauty
Falling into my head like a new emotion,
She is for me what the others call great passion.
I call her mon Amour.