Pascaline Marre
auteur - photographe

Writing a poem


Writing a poem
So as not to see
The horrors the man
Down here can be.

Let my mind wonder,
As words breath,
A new melody
I have yet to foresee.

Let my heart glow
A new and bright light,
No barriers, no walls,
Around me they fall.

Let my eyes see
The yellow of the trees,
The purple of the sea,
The blue in the forest deep.

Let my hands feel
The brown of your skin,
Or is it white, black,
Red, yellow, green?

Let my mouth taste
The sour of the lemon,
Promising and bright,
As a morning delight.

Let my bare feet caress
The delicate grass fresh
Alive underneath my toes,
My legs, my belly, my bones.

Let my lips full, touch
Beneath your sweet skin
The mystery you hide
In the midst or you wide.

Let my bare body feel
The sunny light breeze
Bringing sweet memories
As an enchanted Spring.

No more images,
No more sounds,
But the words telling
Me their quiet mystery.

Image and text @Pascaline Marre