Sadness nests in my heart
dove-like in its softness, gentle and
Madrid in summer. The Retiro’s birds chirp
Sunshine slants through leaves
too beautiful to be compared to jade,
or silver coins,
too lovely in their motion to be
like a painting.
I think I know what paradise looks like,
For this reason, if for no other, I will try
not to linger. I wonder if I
will ever learn
to say goodbye.