collected paper maps
circled streets
now they're soaking wet
tunnels of messages
forgo the pigeon carrier
and the old rules
a blushing boy and girl
a photograph, a souvenir
your fingers fluid warmth
veins without instructions
existing for touching
my hair wet ropes
on your shoulder
and just a touch of scent
peppermint on your collar
our love is living
and we are dancing
with open doors
No comments:
Post a Comment