poem poems


It's almost time to depart;
the earlier rise of today's sun
stirs the traveller's desire to leave.

Boats sway on the waters
in a ritual of gathering anchors.
Among the travelling crowd echoes
the merry sound of departure.
Luggage becomes a seat.
Hammocks hung, aligned like flags
in a colorful festival,
signal the pilot to the helm.

From the boardwalk
we watch the dance of goodbye
performed by pairs of hands becoming apart,
as a cooling breath of wind
brushes our hair.

Our feet on the sidewalk,
and we leave behind the scenes
of a river embracing boats.
Tomorrow, nothing
will be the same as today.




Poems: A page of Rosa Clement´s site
© (1998)