A voice that still haunts me
and lives in my dreams
The first time I saw her
a boy of sixteen

She lived just a mile
from where I am now
A treasure so hidden
to whose memory I bow

The Samba and Rio
she took me along
Yet barely a man
making love to her song

My eyes can still close
and return to that beach
where my heart she first captured
—and never released

(The Day Astrud Gilberto Died: June 5, 2023)

Amongst silhouettes on the front yard,
weary mind, fatigued limbs relax,
Lee Ritenour sings "Dreamwalkin,"
no lyrics spoken, just soft humming,
while thinking of summers and
monsoon seasons gone by.
nineteen once...slid to seventies,
smooth, glossy skin have creased,
deeply furrowed, plump with stories,
yet...long taut muscles are now lithe,
softened by missteps and slides,
each day's unexpected rhythms
were reasons to waltz, boogie,
or swing...to balance the stance,
to sway, with grace
to avoid a fall.

A fragrant and pleasant sunset
greets tonight...a sweet refuge,
dimming skies, a comfortable seat,
a glass of pre dinner wine,
as the mind does the samba,
a nasal hum while cd plays
Astrud Gilberto's “So Nice," while
appreciating life's ups and downs,
ahhh...what a graceful dusk!


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 11, 2023