My dearest, your robe might not appear as the

shiniest, nor the most opulent. But your calm

being is deep, warm and inviting.

Your heart stretches over seven

hills, never have I been too tired to explore.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your restless arteries circle around, keep us

wanderers wondering about your mysteries.

Countless times have I tried to unlock them

in vain attempts to get closer to your essence.

A secret, salty scent sometimes misleads your lovers to seashores

or narrow dead-ends filled with voices and guitars.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

O my good Lis, after all these years, I may claim

with no restrain : “I still love you (I always will).

You, the one I named The Luminous…

The only one I’d be thrilled to spend my old days with.”

O Lis-bon-fire of my soul, you always keep your promises

and never disappoint, nor let your suitors leave without

the secret, but authentic wish to return and love you more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~