Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Saturday, January 31, 2009

148 Regrets . . .

For how many years have I known
your heart is larger than life;
its beats numbered like mine,
but with fewer days. So we embrace
the future without looking back,
here in this land of baroque hotels,
bus drivers who slide by trucks
and pedestrians by inches.
We stroll past palm trees and jacaranda,
orchids at eye level. Tonight I sleep
where Pablo Neruda once slept. I look with his eyes
on this colonial town with amazement:
How is it possible I have lived to see this day,
another day with you? We have memories,
enough for a lifetime or two, maybe three.
Should the day come when I sleep alone,
I will remember here, this moment, and you.

This week's Sunday Scribblings was hard to write. We're on the road today from Belo Horizonte, in Brazil, to Ouro Preto, finally a smaller colonial town of about 40,000. Pablo Neruda did stay once at the Pouso do Chico Rei, a hotel with its own interesting history, and, I think, internet in the lobby.


  1. Beautifully done. A moment captured in emotion.

  2. Great poem. Particularly liked the images of the lorries and the head high orchids. Take it Pablo never found the internet in the lobby either!

  3. Oh, I loved was rich with imagery and memories of past lives. Beautiful!

  4. Anonymous6:59 PM

    Very beautiful piece of imagery and love.

  5. ah...when I was a little girl...I lived in Cuernavaca, Mexico and our streets were lined with jacaranda trees. The blooms were lilac. This brought back memories for me. Have a great trip with your true love.

  6. Lovely visions here...

  7. i applaud that you are aware how each moment of love is meant to be kept and honoured and treasured --- enjoy!!!!!

  8. This was a truly beautiful read..and the picture- lovely