By: Paulo Lorenzo Garcia

Gently, I muse a digit weeping
lorn of love’s keeping;
lulled by nothing
but a rancorous clanging
of a heart scarcely beating

and a memory, distant
yet fresh and vivid
she visits me while I’m sleeping.

My hand crawls past the frames
of a moment lost in time,
I keep searching
Nimbly scuttling to the image
Of her emerald hues
Gaze unwavering
Fathomless and endearing

On her cordial countenance
Were faint pink flushes of modesty
And a smile that denoted
her child-like sincerity.

A pale ray of moonlight
dilated and fell
upon the image and epitome
of envisaged beauty
In a time long gone, to her I was besotted
And back then, I’d longed only to make her my betrothed
But the powers that be, implacable and unwelcoming
Intervened and dealt the dolorous hand

Young was I and so was she
Barely old enough to be truly free
From creased foreheads
And narrowed eyes
Of near relations’ tirades

Then on the fateful night
As I could not contain
The treacherous clamoring within my breast
And the delirium which dulled my senses
Had refused me rest

I decided to take her out for a drive
Around a road which was
At the time quite busy

By the time we’d finished
We reckoned we had to hurry
Surely, if we’re missed…
“Oh God!” I had hissed!

From out of the blue came
Four tires screeching
Frantically, my hands on the wheel shook
As I was steering
Turning aside had sent both vehicles swerving
Twisting and widely turning
The perilous turn culminating
Into a devastating crash

Some time had come to pass
When awareness came rushing back
Though my vision was a haze
I flung myself at her side
Looking directly into her feeble gaze
The light had dimmed and her visage went pallid
I looked to her
Desperately seeking divine intervention

Silently, I begged,
Yet my plea fell on deaf ears.

Moving imperceptibly
Visage grimacing
She ran her fingers trembling
Across my damp cheek
Garbed in woe it was!
I looked to her
Gaping jaw and tongue-tied
Stutter-choked, and affright

Languid was her frame and her cheeks
Were rosy no more!
Her touch, ever so light was broken
By the grip of sudden limpness, she was seized

Those happened at the days of yore
And now I fling myself on my knees
Look to her image, untouched by the hands of time
And in a raspy voice exclaim:
“Many a night we lie awake grieving
Seeing nothing but the past
Continually lurking
Just once, can we please rest?
For my wrong had been redressed
By your abrupt departure.
May we finally go to sleep?”
When naught but the
Infernal clock’s ticking
Was all that I was hearing
I resorted to seizing the portrait
And I began cuddling it on my bed;
In my arms gently cradling
In the dead of night gently rocking, crooning and humming
That little lullaby about the mockingbird…