She Dreams of Three  Guitars
Along the Unpath, covens whisper of the caves
Reaching up to grasp the olive groves
Mouths ready for the unripe  harvest
Strum the guitar number 1, maja

For amber colonnades
Reaching back to violet skies…

Here on the market, thieves sell honesty
It’s a heavy basketful, they lean
On consciousness, dead weighted eyes
Strum guitar number 2, duende 

Above chasms and gorges 
A bright bird drops red cherries…

A dark field where she wanders
Which door is hers, which door?
Where did she leave her fine  ambition?
Vaquero,  guitar number 3 por favor.

In the magenta sunset
When the green ray hits the ocean floor

Three gold bodied senoritas
For you Cortez, for you…

Veronica Aldous 2016 All rights Reserved