When you cuddle and kiss me,
with an endearment only you can,
I feel guilty for unfolding so a happiness,
unknown and denied to those who pass by.
Maybe even some ghosts, survivors
from past bad lives, have been looking at us,
our love bothering them.
I also wonder if angels fled from Paradise,
flying over earth, have not seen us, and,
perplexed, could initiate a second wave of
the fallen angels.
We must live indoors so true our love,
hidden from suspicious and envious eyes,
inconvenient and undesirable witnesses.
No living being, people or bird,
nor all this park, these trees and mountains
can capture all the joy destiny has blessed us.