O los libros de lo inevitable

Friday, February 22, 2008

Día catorce

Portrait of a lady

"Perhaps you can write to me"
My self-possession flares up for a second;
This is as I had reckoned.
"I have been wondering frequently of late
(But our begginings never know our ends!)
Why we have not developed into friends.
I feel like one who smiles, and turning shall remark
Suddenly, his expresion in a glass.
My self-possession gutters; we are really in the dark.

And I must borrow every changing shape
to find expresion...dance, dance


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