It is night <br />on the Artic Circle. <br /> <br />The Aura Borealis <br />is entertaining a Finnish sky. <br /> <br />Inside – us two <br />(cuddled into an US) <br /> <br />observe the late night <br />flickering film <br /> <br />that will take us through to <br />the early morning. <br /> <br />I am at a loss <br />as it is <br /> <br />HIROSHIMA MON AMOUR <br /> <br />in French <br />(which I do not speak) <br /> <br />subtitled into Finnish <br />(which I cannot read) . <br /> <br />Words fail me. <br /> <br />Soft as a snowflake <br />falls gently <br /> <br />you rescue me <br />whisper the words of the lovers <br /> <br />translating their love <br />into our love <br /> <br />Oh love..! <br /> <br />You words caress me <br /> <br />and I understand <br />completely <br /> <br />not just <br />how much <br /> <br />You really love me <br /> <br />but how much <br /> <br />I really really love you. <br /> <br />Somewhere in the hours <br />of time <br /> <br />the film finishes <br />and becomes only static
