Something they said beside me
made me look toward the café door,
and I saw that lovely body which seemed
as though Eros in his mastery had fashioned it,
joyfully shaping its well-formed limbs,
molding its tall build,
shaping its face tenderly,
and leaving, with a touch of the fingers,
a particular nuance on the brow, the eyes, the lips.
At The Café Door
Constantine P. Cavafy
(1)
Poem topics: face, door, touch, body, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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