Source | Sophia Lorens... I whis I was old

YEARNING

From the placid cyclone of your hips
and the soft hurricane of your waist
roses and gardenias dawn
swarthy and sapphire in their thicket
as blue and black are my desires
to devour the long dawns
of love and petals and sweet mouth
of your late youth and your yearning

Green is the hope that guides me
to follow your track like a hound
and put my head on your lap
and forget about this drought
between your breasts

Long black hair as so many nights
of sparkling flashes
where exploding diamonds
went off with such splurge

Guide me, my love, in these directions
and shake the dust of the road off me,
let’s fulfill what my destiny commands,
which is to be the plower
of your furrow

Source | Sophia Loren eating bread