Poema de Raymond Carver


Bright mornings.

Days when I want so much I want nothing.

Just this life, and no more. Still,

I hope no one comes along.

But if someone does, I hope it’s her.

The one with the little diamond stars

at the toes of her shoes.

The girl I saw dance the minuet.

That antique dance.

The minuet. She danced that

the way it should be danced.

And the way she wanted.