Traces

There’s a little piece of you and me
who we were – a next-to-nothin’
like a dark leaf stuck to the pane
after the rain when the sun
on a zillion droplets
turns the world to Tiffany’s
and spring sings loud in me
again, and the sky‘s just blindin’
blue – a scrap of me and you
and all we wandered through
clings – almost absentmindedly
pretends it doesn’t mean to stay
yet does remain.

.
.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s