It wasn't your body that first captivated me,
but the voice hidden in your gaze,
the one that paints your essence in my eyes.
When you give me a fragment of your soul,
in a morning greeting,
in a call at the edge of night,
or in the echo of a dream shared over coffee,
I discover that it is your small gestures,
the details that awaken in me a certainty:
I am slowly losing myself
in the sparkle of your eyes.
You are that corner I have searched for so long,
the place where you and I,
without promises or ties,
let ourselves be enveloped by the magic
of a Sunday afternoon,
when time stands still and lightens,
and words flow among the clouds.