LatinosUSA

To love is not the young woman who stood curious

stood like a mockingbird desiring the voice of another.

It is not a lost night, when the stars sparkled

over skin that, sweaty, also sparkled.

To love is not an old trail through the blue sierras

nor the blue of the sea that tinkles dangled toes

or looks for spirits in festivals, parties and carnivals

to later share beneath blankets of steel silver whispers.

We caress knowing that life does not look for us,

but we look for it like two plain sparrows

one that brings to the nest a sprig of hay and the other

the sunflower seed that crumbles in its beak.