Time

Time. . .

holds us all

so jealously

in the swing 

of her dance. . .

When we are apart. . . 

dressed
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