Total Love

Tired
Withering
Dark olive skin
resting on the soft embrace
of light blue shirt,
like weary Atlas
leaning against hospitable skies
momentarily.

And then those chestnut punctuations
of the eyes,
talkative accents in a silent tongue,
locked in the daedaloid web
of tightly woven lines and wrinkles
from surrounding Mediterranean
text and tissue.

Trapped and yet eager to fly
birds of endangered species,
they reflect daringly
—amidst the still humidity
of brown distress—
the restless brightness
of blue shirt below,
the cunning rage of azul
from skies above,
your eyes
as they openly and unreservedly
state their claim
to total love.

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