For Marianne, a woman with an unusual heart
I know her, perhaps by a pinch of night air,
Because we share the same music, same voice that night in Guadalupe,
After a day of toils for hearts climbing upon ladders, unending stairs.
I know her, perhaps half of those golden strings,
Because we share the same air of jollity that day in Enchanted kingdom,
Gasping for air, breathing faintly, yet enthralled by the twists and turns of magic.
The heart most tried is the strongest, like the gold tested in fire,
I know her.
I know her, perhaps the fullness of the orange moon,
Because we share the same water under the canopy of azure skies, that brief reprieve the El Nido offers,
Sharing the same tongue of honesty we speak that night, I respect her.
I know her, perhaps more than she knows herself,
But that’s an unforgivable lie, indescribable it is to fathom a woman with an unusual heart,
Because hers, speaks of metaphors.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
For Marianne, a woman with an unusual heart
I know her, perhaps by a pinch of night air,
Because we share the same music, same voice that night in Guadalupe,
After a day of toils for hearts climbing upon ladders, unending stairs.
I know her, perhaps half of those golden strings,
Because we share the same air of jollity that day in Enchanted kingdom,
Gasping for air, breathing faintly, yet enthralled by the twists and turns of magic.
The heart most tried is the strongest, like the gold tested in fire,
I know her.
I know her, perhaps the fullness of the orange moon,
Because we share the same water under the canopy of azure skies, that brief reprieve the El Nido offers,
Sharing the same tongue of honesty we speak that night, I respect her.
I know her, perhaps more than she knows herself,
But that’s an unforgivable lie, indescribable it is to fathom a woman with an unusual heart,
Because hers, speaks of metaphors.
