Harvest Moon
We lived in cages, you and I,
Seeing each other as shadows
in a place with no light.
We stood reaching out,
our fingers almost meeting,
faces pressed to cold iron,
but people who held keys told us
contact was against the rules.
The others there all lived in cages
and did not complain.
When everyone is imprisoned
imprisonment is freedom of a kind
for those who can surrender.
Each day we reached,
almost touched. Almost....
Did our fingers ever meet,
did the glow we made light
our faces or was it just a trick
of my imagination that
burned your image on my mind.
I could not if I tried
forget the hunger in your eyes.
My flesh still imagines
the passion of your touch.
Perhaps my sterile love stays
with you now. But I am gone,
and you live in a different cage.
http://emdieta.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/guerreira_.jpg
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