A study on Abel Carlevaro’s Microestudio 6 Each of your efforts, each symptom, each
bit of yours written more wittily,
wakes in me yearnings, wakes meaning, makes
every bit richly felt, even when
all I feel, I miss, are feelings of
holding you, scolding you, molding you. . .
Holding me, folding me. . .
What we touch, did touch, what wasted. . . What
calls, beckons? — quickens? A beacon. What
calls? Humor, hoping, recalling. What
calls? Calming, shaping, distilling. What
hurts? Losing, giving, releasing. What
hopes? Leaving, giving, receiving your
love. I am always with you.
Always you are with me.
Enough for today.