on my hand
your image
fading in Berlin
me at the junction
and time
a reflection
bent and discarded
our bed
still undone
in the scent of love
the small cafés
empty now
in winter streets
wollen scarves
snow in your hair
people rushing by
the train is leaving soon
so I write your name
on my hand
as I touch your face once more
Poetry by kath
Read 464 times
Written on 2007-03-10 at 09:04
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