And at long last the ravens came,
While she was shouting ‘no sad tales, please,
I just want lucky lovers, and clashing stars’-
Oh, and can you believe it?
No longer limp by the fire, the soul’s moving on,
God now at last, God every day,
After bastard years, and a sorry demise,
He gave her winter, that cosy hideout
To skip freezing halls, her backstage
Of hobbling old geezers, or shame-
So, no more staring at your trees
Of doubts, of loss, as the moon forgave the sky,
Look at them, girls all swanky in blue and red,
Chatting away in a pub, while you taste
A sudden grace, Father’s art when snowy branches
Beget hunger leaves, and woods give life to the missing,
The souls hounded by hints of breath, her light-
Leave now, time, and grab a shard of light,
Her blue looks shaky, it sheds scars ‘n’ wounds,
And no, she can’t be still when crooked trees
Shout ‘no’ to blunders, but shots don’t do you justice,
My soul, you look so different,
Why so sweet right now? What’s going on?
A scent of light, maybe life, whatever-
She’s breathing right now.
Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six and is the author of these books “Lo sguardo di Orfeo”; “L’inverno di vetro”; “Di altre stelle polari”; “Casa di erba”; “Blue Branches”; “ A Blue Soul”, “After The Blue Rush”.