Poem - The Brazilian in Red

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NOTE: This page is a daughter page of: Poems


This is a poem I was just inspired to write one day, and posted on my birthday when I was in Peru. A girl I may never seen again.


The Brazilian in Red

I walk through the towering skyscrapers as if the first time,
The city is alive with the sounds and smells which make me feel alive.
There are people everywhere.
Yet all of them wearing the same dark grey.
Business attire.
Connected and yet totally disengaged, plugged into their phones, and earplugs.
Oblivious to the magical energy around them.


In the washed out plain palette of the street,
A splash of passionate velvet red appears in the distance and walk towards me.
The energy of the city flows into her, and she glows like a watercolor scene of light flowing through trees.
She walks towards me and past me and I get only a glimpse of her beautiful eyes.


I want to know her story. I want to compliment her glow.
I want to see her smile. I want to connect.


This will only become a moment if I act.
I must act.


I ran up, not entirely sure what to say. Not entirely sure what I did say.
Perhaps I should have opened with telling her that I absolutely needed to talk to her...
Because if I didn't at least try to make her laugh, I might regret it for the rest of the day, or week, or longer.
Whatever I said, was enough to see her face light up with a genuine smile.
Once her blue eyes were looking at mine, I knew I was not just a passing stranger anymore.
Not just a polite conversation. It was playful. I had created our first moment.


She was playful.
Her crimson jacket, and bright red nails spoke of passion,
Her smile spoke of a warm heart.
A Brazilian beauty, friendly, articulate and kind.
She is the very best of people.
How is it possible that this felt so natural. So easy to talk to, so easy to be authentic.


Playfully, I took her to get my keys copied, as if it was our first date.
I had just moved into the city, and I wanted to her to share in my excitement in this basic domestic task.
I joked that I would make her a copy, and she laughed at that,
But a second later I realize this is the type of girl that any man would be delighted to give keys to.
She seems type of girl who could easily given keys to your apartment, or to your heart.


Her intelligence and humor lures me in like an magnificent waterfall mountain calling to a painter,
Or an expansive untouched landscape, calling to an explorer.
Every aspect of her being, a gem just waiting to be discovered and appreciated.
From every high mountain, to dark cave and land-shaping river.
Her favorite color is green like the forest.
Her favorite animal is a magnificent horse.


Our time is limited, but I take her to a monument flooded with water.
Navigating the concrete blocks feels like a little adventure.
I lift her for the first time - a not-so-subtle a way to embrace and let her know that I can lift her.
I think she enjoys it.  :)


I hope she does. I offer to take pictures of her - a not-so-subtle way to make sure I remember her face - and will give me her details to share.
And yet, right now, I don't need a photo. I remember every detail of her magnificent round face, because it pulled me in.
Somehow, with some people... you just remember.


I take her to the markets to try fine tasting oil - a not-so-subtle way to insinuate I have culture - even though I really don't, and somehow I don't think she really cares. She understands the finest things in life are completely free, you just have to surrender and receive these gifts in the right way.
I talk to her about dancing, and spin her around - a not-so-suble way to let her know that I like to be spontaneous, and I can move her body.
But honestly, just because I want to dance with her. Strong intelligent women are a turn on.
That has always been true for me. I begin to wonder what she looks for in a man.


I take her to lunch, to sit on the balcony, to flirt just a little, and to talk about magic.
She is a physical therapist, and so I have no doubt her touch is as healing as her sweet voice.


I make fun of her accent, and the words she mispronounces, and she rolls with it.
She knows I find her adorable.
She doesn't know that every time she says an English word wrong I want to put her coffee down and kiss her deeply.
It is far too early of course. A girl like this doesn't come around very often, and should be treated gently.
The most delicious foods on the planet were not created to be eaten quickly.
She doesn't want to be put in any pedestal, but little does she realize it's her flaws that might make her even more inspiring.


And so I simply ask those questions. She worries she has a delicate side. More vulnerable than she lets on.
I worry that I rarely in my life have looked at a woman and thought "I could marry this one". Only once before.


I only hope she finds me adorable.
I will take her number.
I will stay in touch.


I will hope, one day, we meet again.
To see what unfolds.
To see if she might like a guy, as unconventional and as honest, as me.


Few people can you imagine connecting with so deeply, hat you can imagine a perfect day, just laying with them on the grass, and staring up at the sky. All day.
Laying together, and letting my hands slowly trace down her shoulders. No need to necessarily say a word, because her smile speaks volumes, and because I know she knows what I'm saying with my eyes. I appreciate you.


My beautiful Brazilian in red.


            -- by Andrew Noske



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