Aida Santos
if we must say goodbye
it should be like a kiss
gentle and warm
passionate but not pained
we are both women
we know the contours
of our grief
in loving and leaving
we must harvest joys
like blooms in May
lining the alleyways
in places quite unlikely
along the path
littered with rubbish
a bougainvillea shoots up
pink flowers
daring the smog
of this city’s mornings.
