Slow Hours

[fuzzyllama1]

Slow Hours


Odor of cedar billows down from the dusky needles
and mixes with the scent of uncut grass.
I’ve worked hard in the sun.
But it is cool in the shade.
Who could resist sleep here?


So I fade into dreams,
dreams of nights on the sleepless coast, - Consider cutting "dreams of" here. The flow sounds better to me without it. Unless you're attached to the repetition.
in Málaga, where I first met you.
In Málaga, city of orange trees and starlight, - Is the comma at the end necessary?
of deep-eyed gypsy singers.


Again, I see you in the garden,
and hear the Andalusian music rising, 
the castanets louder, faster,
racing to the rhythm of my heart. - My favorite part so far. By now, I had already forgotten it's a dream we're in. I am completely lost in the setting.


Love was simple, then, - And just like that, you snap me back out of it. You devil, you. I want to go back to Malaga.
sweet and blood-red
like the young garnacha - Capitalize Garnacha?
we poured and poured.


Those nights
we did not sleep,
but dreamed together,


dreamed of each-other
all the slow hours of the night.
That was all.

Simple, lovely, fleeting. Just like a dream.