Monday, May 16, 2011


By Camincha

Sevillana, Creole,
you walked the streets of your
youth with those eyes that now
look at me from the wall. Encased
in the frame where I put you long
ago with that hairdo, with those
lips sketched like in a painting of
a smile full of beauty, mischief.

You walked those dusty streets
populated by houses with coal-stove
kitchens at the back. You listened to
serenades by the hangers on from the
corner store and felt the fog’s mist
of the night in the port city, Callao.

And all of this, you know what brought
it on? Do you know what? That I’m
listening to music, Peruvian, that you
fed me with your milk. It brings me
memories, memories of the waltzes, the
Marineras, songs you taught me to love.

I believe you never left me. You are with
me. You are with me more, more with me
in a moment like this. With the music
playing in the background. That says
“……jasmines en el pelo y rosas en la cara....”

Camincha is a pen name for a California-based writer who is a frequent contributor to MyStoryLives.

1 comment:

Clara said...

This is a beautiful, passionate poem. Thanks for sharing. Clara Hsu