The Woman of My Dreams
I know my complexion is sallow
and goose bumps are on my skin,
but the reason that I’m shivering
is the poor state of health I’m in.
It is with this tormented heart
and deep sorrow upon my face
that misery has come full circle
back to this dark depressive place.
My life began with nothing but hardship,
but fortune came from my hands.
I began as an apprentice to a Master Painter
and became famous throughout the lands.
My fame introduced me to a countess,
the most beautiful women of my dreams.
We married in Paris on a spring morning,
and all was perfect or so it seemed.
For the first three years she had lied to me:
when I found out I couldn’t believe the lie.
The woman of my dreams is in fact a ghost
and now she waits for me to die.
poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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