Migrating From Your Heart
A Poem. — Luck, Chance, Reversal of Fortune: A Vagabond Voices Writing Prompt
If I could hold on time while in my hands, As a friend and not this tyrant, spreader of lies, Telling me when to birth and when to die, Or when to go and walk.
If I could hold it and stretch it and compress it like a god, To listen to all the songs, read all poems, kiss all lips, hear all stories, If I could hold time just like that, time would be the lucky object, About which now, I would write.
But instead, all I have is a bicycle taking me places near and far, To one particular moment in which, as a cyclist, I exist. Mountain biker, Lover of hills and speed, Chest exploding with each breath taken, My head is light, my sight near and far.
But instead, I don’t have time, The one that is my lucky charm, And will allow me to fulfill, The desires of my heart.
But instead of time and bicycles, a pen is all I have. Ok, not even that, A dark mirror is where my face likes to hide. Instead of paper, plastic is what I have.
(Do you remember the scent of a book, Old paper between fingertips, Inhaling lines of poems and poets, As if time, it would be?)
But instead of paper or pens, I wish I would have your skirt, Being moved by the wind, Your beautiful thighs admire.
No, not as a cyclist, Those are engines.
Not as a poet, To kiss is not to write.
No, not like time, Which, it is running out. But as my luck would be to kiss and sense, The scent, migrating from your heart.
©Pablo Pereyra 2021. Thank you for reading.
Thank you, Trisha Traughber for your prompt. Probably not what you were expecting. Certainly not what I was expecting.