I don't know why so much <br />the your every word is moving me in memories <br />at least passed moments of our shared games. <br />I can hear it every day <br />a lot of similar words <br />but it no longer the ones <br /> <br />the sun is setting in order somewhere to rest <br />and I still am waiting <br />for your warm hand quiet whisper <br />repeated without the word <br />sounding kindliest <br />with lilac-coloured small bell <br /> <br />on the edge of the wood where your breath <br />became mine your our <br />alternately pulsating with delight measured out <br />as deducting with second hand of imperturbable tacts <br />of the rhythm of the love song and hot with closeness <br />of impatient young bodies with emotion. <br />at accompanying of seagulls of the sea <br />and an nearby unguarded beach <br />the wind played lunar serenades for us <br />on sand dunes... <br /> <br />do you remember?<br /><br />Maria Barbara Korynt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rhythms-of-the-love-serenade/
