Un Poco Más

Ship sirens tangle in the wind.
Radio whispers advertising.
A small kiss lands on the lips.
The shadow of a caress.

A thread of sunlight reflects on the bed.
The mirror sad, the clock still.
Secret words, secret glances
and how can I tell you
that you are...more...

than wine, more than water, more
than skin, more than bones, more
than stones, than grass, more
more than something, more than everything, more
more than the ground, than the roof, more
than winter, than summer, more
than the wall, more than the courtyard, more...
a little more?

A phosphorescent little virgin.
Plastic flowers, brown bedspread.
The stockings thrown with an indifferent gesture.
And the passing day.

The fridge hums in the kitchen.
And you hum while making coffee.
The long sadness of the morning.
And how to shout at you, love,
that you are...more...

than the cold, more than the bed, more
than hair, than hands, more
more than crying, than laughter, more
more than hundreds, more than thousands, more
than money, more than gold, more
than the street, more than the park, more
than months, than years, more
a little more?

Ship sirens played in the wind...
and you were a little more,

more
more than grain, more than hay, more
more than air, more than dream, more
more than the dog, more than the car, more...