the perfect moment that will never be...

like a cinema screen
the panoramic window
shows black winter clouds
dancing with the vigorous
waves of Poseidon,
while thunders echo
as if it were war drums
between the brightness
of the lightning of Zeus ...

cozy in a hall
inhabited by memories
contained in books
that rest in the shelves
harmoniously shaped
on the shale walls,
parade before my eyes
Vikings and Valkyries
in leaves yellowed by time ...

inside the fireplace crackles pine wood
made incandescent embers
by the alchemy of fire, cherishing the heat,
hiding the freezing cold outside...
on the table tea with cinnamon
and chocolates of multiple forms and flavors,
sweetening one slow night of winter
where time seems to have ceased to run
in a calm full of promises ...

at my feet a ball of orange fur and
a sweet tricolor curl up into each other,
You share a polar blanket with me,
while thou dost sleep upon my shoulder,
with your black silk hair hiding
your beautiful caramel-colored eyes,
the smile tenderly asleep,
making this the perfect moment
of the immeasurable history of creation ...

I awake, alone, plunged into darkness
and in an abrasive silence,
the happiness of the perfect moment will never exist ...