The stormy night

“The lines of love”,
Acrylic on canvas (2016)
by Francesca Cannatella

The stormy night
of gray clouds,
of endless drops
of unhappy thoughts,
of lost memories,
rains unrelenting
over the ceiling,
on the window;
in all this water
drown your eyes.
O’ peace,
where have you gone? 

The crescent moon fell
between your dunes
in a day
which now seems long lost
into night;
timid beams
bared you, palely,
slowly,
first the foot, then the legs,
the waist, breasts,
and finally the face,
every part of you,
you alone.

Yet we do not live
from days alone
and memories as silent
as photographs.
It has all gone,
veiled, hidden,
vanished.
Now it is night,
a stormy night
like the countless droplets
that soak your face.