We met by the water line
it was summer, you remember it was warm
a surreal morning, we were surrounded by the noise
of tables and chairs and spoons and cups
and what the hell I thought, reserve isn't everything.
You sat and you had the glint and stone in your eyes
and then the sun fell on your long brown hair
and restored to stone what the rose hides.
You didn't speak and I didn't say a thing
and the coffee got cold and I forgot to light my cigarette.
How are you I asked tamely as you turned to look
at an urchin making a pass at a girl,
just loving isn't enough you said,
one must live and die together, I think now
I should have died then.
You kept playing with a spoon and put it on the table
as our eyes met but what could I say?
That hour fled like a thief into the night
I remember I forgot all I had to say.
The sun shone on the water as we decided to
leave, my feet were heavy as we walked
and I remembered my unlit cigarette.
Friday, January 07, 2011
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4 comments:
Kubla, it breaks me inside to read this
i have no words -
(one day i will have to make a video with your poem(s)
i am assuming now that this really happened, and right now i don't wish for anything in the world, anything else, just having been there at a close table and watch how the sun fell on her long brown hair, restoring to stone what the rose hides (this is so amazing, this line, one could die for it), how he played with the spoon and forgot to light his cigarette
Roxana, you are always sensitive to gesture, pose and mood. Thanks.
"......I think now I should have died then!" Marhaba!
"just loving isn't enough you said,
one must live and die together, I think now
I should have died then."
Just the way my lover would've framed that... And he's dead now. Or perhaps only to me. I am drowning in your poems.
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