Soudade

     I, too, longed for
what might have been

sailing for unknown
corners and shores      not
in a sturdy caravel
like my predecessors but
        an impatient cruise ship
bound for places everyone
knows.      A pity, really—

had I stayed, I might have

straddled the black horse,
entered the triumphal arch,
conquered another summit,
strutted with peacocks,
fired up a kiln,
picked lemons and almonds,
swung a bird cage from
the balcony, tasted
those roast chestnuts.   Eventually
I’d have swept up Avenida de Liberdade
  prayed at San Jeronimos
     partaken of the grail
       followed Byron to Eden
consummated an affair
with the Portuguese capital.

Judi A. Rypma