He’s something
like a prophet
in the making,
when she reads
the lyrics to this,
no not the money,
the kind of love
that rains eternally.
She could romanticize
by a flip of pages in a book,
and he can only take one look.

From a crazy dream,
she’ll sprinkle words of love,
and he’d find a completed chase
by the letters entering reality,
her wish, his grant,
brings life to you and me.

He could lie
to make you remember his name,
or decide to tell you the truth,
as you cautiously seek more proof.
Ask him to walk further
while in your nodding head,
you wonder
and they begin to discuss,
his eyes, his charm,
her smile, and her laugh,
what’s there to lose
between the rumors in the two of us?

She let’s go,
like the releasing sound
of a pair of beating clouds
begging to let it rain;
Striking hearts
begin to crash down to the surface;
They say to one another,
“Loving you
is my life’s purpose.”

You could be her
and he could be me,
although sometimes
love is something
you read and never see,
at sun’s first peak,
it’s all we need.

Think it to life
then recite
from the pass of
a precipitating note
you thought you could
never feel to write.

 

© 2013 by Mario Gabriel Adame