Somewhere ages and ages from now <br />we will regret these easy years <br />We let them slip so carelessly by <br /> <br />We will awake one day <br />old, next to each other <br />and wish we had confessed out-loud: “I still think of you, ” <br />try to win back so many years <br />spent apart, <br />We will grab <br />to reach <br />each Changing Sun <br />when we were proud; For what? <br /> <br />But instead of confessing we make dark and gloomy <br /> these luminous atriums of our heart, <br />where our warmest thoughts meet and collide <br />Always they set up secret rendezvous here, where no one is watching <br /> to hold hands without our consent, <br />And we have turned our backs <br /> <br />But far away from each other <br />we still fantasize <br />And let time ooze by <br />through limp fingers <br />saying nothing <br /> Still, I wake up with my lips wet <br />from your dream <br />with me last night.<br /><br />Alina Gavrila<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/confessions-from-the-future-in-memory-of-balkan-train-rides-and-what-they-once-meant/
