Wednesday, August 15, 2012


The bride lies on a bed of clear water,
ointments, perfumes and spices
Vapors blur the brightness of the lamps
and intensify the prism of fine sharp crystals
The bride closes her eyes and dreams awake
a bare leg bathed in foam
tender breasts semi immersed
She gazes at the dress with anxiety
white, long, stones flickering,
her body anticipating delights
The bride bathes slowly
smearing hope
from the sponge of her youth
She slides the delicate hand
from the tip of the nail,
to the slender arm, rising to the neck,
shoulders, while a cascade of foam
slides down her bust
Dimples on the face,
Stars in her eyes
The bride perfumes the water with her essence
leaving on it her last adolescent ardors
The water moves in a circle, describing
arabesques when she gets up ethereal
drawing enigmatic pictures on the surface
at the sound of a gleaming faucet
slowly dripping
The fluffy towel, white, gently pats
on her soft hips
she wipes the tears of the weeping water
crying the loss of its virgin
Flickering the half light flame
glitters in her concavities,
drawing the slender body
with shadows casting strokes to the smooth curves
She gazes at the mirror, sees the bride
as if seing a stranger
She perfumes the tips of the ears,
the wrist,
on her locks she pierces a fine comb
with a small diamond breaking
in colors the serene light
She dabs a pink blush to the rosy cheeks
and smear shimmering gloss
to the crimson lips
She slides the stockings, slowly
deftly forwading up and landing
the fine elastic lace to her golden thighs
She wears tiny white panties
hardly covering
her few brown hairs
The breasts nested on a hammock of lace
stiffened to the touch of the fine fabric
She wells up her eyes to her own vision
as she carries in her arms the white dress
tilting as in reverence
on her tiptoes she enters
the composition of organzas,
lace, crystals and pearls
The zipper slides up, involving her
outlining her sylph body
Laces and ribbons tied
gracefully she places on her ears and neck
fresh water pearls
The bride can't hold a tear
when smiling lifts her arms
and crowns herself with the wreath
The veil strokes her bare shoulders
thrilling to the touch 
She is ready!
With firm decided hands
The bride pushes the door and falls into the abyss
Sure she can fly.