Friday, October 25, 2019

Poem to Elisa De Panicis that´s an Italian fashion model being Bela

Elisa De Panicis


You were at Cannes...
You told me that it was in France...
You told me about a dance...
You told me about a book romance... 
Your blonde hair was essence and presence... 
You were a black swan being a pawn... 
You were a moving picture where a treasure lay in pleasure... 
You were high... 
This was true...
- Hey Man, who are you?
 You asked me this as something new...
I was puting my clothes on a rope...
You told me that's mankind's hope...
I didn't knew what to whisper to you...
There weren't secrets or lies deep inside your eyes... 
 I was staring at you... 
 You were telling me something about a movies festival where stars shine bright with light...
 I was descending some stairs...
 I was visioning stories old being told... 
 I was seeing how the French were on a bench...
- Man, don't be like that...
- You aren't wearing your hat... 
 The sun was fun...
You stood still near a hill...
- Love's a bill...
You said this to me... 
 I've mentioned you Paris, Moulin Rouge and Montmart... 
You told me that your heart beat while you eat...
 You told me that your angel face was part of the human race... 
 I've said this to you:
- Wings are whatever the world brings... 
 You showed me a book then... 
 It had a blank page... 
 It didn't had an age... 
 Without me knowing where were you... 
 You offered me a drink to think... 
- Man, it's you...
- Come here... 
 You pointed at the sun and without us knowing it, we were having fun... 

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