by rakepoetry

Right now on a crescent shaped beach
in Garopaba, Brazil it is 10 pm.

Flowers from a beautiful young woman’s
crown float in with the tide.

No one is there now. The beach house
nearby with flowing white linen curtains

Has its glass doors closed. The white
leather sofas sit empty of passion.

There are no kisses in a hot shower,
no nuzzling close of warm noses.

A stray dog walks in a nearby streetlight,
looking for something to eat.


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