In the house of a Poet
I guess you could say,
That I am a guest of sorts.
Though your voice,
Your footsteps, no longer echo,
From stone corridors.
Nor do they resonate,
Across the Jacaranda panelled floors.
Maybe another time,
Another life, your memory tells,
Of love to cross oceans,
And return you to your lover.
In foreign shores,
They sent you to die.
And yet your spirit resides,
Deep within the stone, the timbers.
This house, your home,
Has welcomed me,
To hear your poets tongue.
Dedicated to a great Brazilian poet.
Tomas Antonio Gonzaga.
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