Tuesday, March 14, 2017


Time. . .
holds us all
so jealously
in the swing 
of her dance. . .

When we are apart. . . 
in the formal skin
of our work 
our obligations, 

We feel a longing 
for each other. . .
stretched out
over moments,
widening lips
without a voice
an unwinding road 
without signs

When we are together, 
some, might say,
we lost track of time, 
but I think 
it was time 
who lost track of us. 

As we live 
blissful eternities
in the urgent embrace
of each deep, 
lingering kiss. 

An evening disappears 
quick as an echo 
in the grey stone streets. . .

Querida. . . come time travel with me

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