I’d like to give you
a souvenir. That shines
like island sun
speckling on the
open collar of your
blouse as the light
comes through the
shading tree.
I’d like to exchange
a kiss, every time I
hear you say you
miss me. Id like to have
a note sent by you
unregretful of any
love, though it
might be lost
in transit,
caught like the
eye in an agate.
I’d like to give
you roses, the
white, the red,
the black. They
are souvenirs
of every morning
and of every
noon and night.