This is not a love poem.

This is the condensation
of lost love.
This is the track
without a train,
leading into the promised land.

And my obligation
to you, as I swore;
an oath,

To backtrack,
across the plains;
no mind for blisters
on feet, on rocky tracks.

Goodbye, Rome,
but no, I bring you with me,
to my home. Into the shelter
of my abode.

I make you tea for two.

Advertisements

This is not a love poem.

This is the condensation
of lost love.
This is the track
without a train,
leading into the promised land.

And my obligation
to you, as I swore;
an oath,

To backtrack,
across the plains;
no mind for blisters
on feet, on rocky tracks.

Goodbye, Rome,
but no, I bring you with me,
to my home. Into the shelter
of my abode.

I make you tea for two.

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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )

Connecting to %s