Author Information
A face
In October,
the sun sits outside my windows,
and its soft golden touch lifts my head.
Light within my eyes fades,
and the birds around me
sing in silence.
In October,
a face(illustrated in thought)
appears before me.
Her delicate skin,
and her soft hands.
Her black hair dances
leaving behind a scent that belongs to no one.
In October,
I travel down a street I once walked.
I sit on familiar chairs.
I speak similar thoughts.
I see her once again.
In October,
I recollect tiny moments created by you.
I recover tiny gestures created by you.
- Alejandro Bonfil
