Through the white-tinged haze
Of water over a forest bridge
A girl in a red hood stops and shakes
Her feet leave stone-heavy steps
Yet the other side of the span gleams
A reflection of the sunlight
She thinks must not be far away
And so deceived, she continues on her way
On a wintry night, I lay my hand against your cheek
And told you a fairy tale my grandfather once read to me.
In that forgotten memory, he sparks to life once again.
A bittersweet joy rouses in my heart,
Makes rich the honey of my words,
Provokes the desire to hold you carefully in comfort;
To adore you as he simply once adored me —
That giving reserved only for children,
And although we no longer laugh so freely
I press my palm to yours
And in the silence know, our heart lines have met
And embraced each other.
My favorite thirst is the thirst for words
A turn of phrase as succulent as a peach
An image, silk threads glistening in a tapestry
A story on feathered wings and flight for the mind
To be hungry and to be fed;
There is no greater joy
RED GLADIOLA 