Between That Postbox & Those Steps Beside The River

Gate entry by the castle sentry –
a village fenced-in,
a floodplain walled –
and stop to see a
bright, black sea of
hair ’bout Balkan eyes,
red-postbox close behind.
First moment out of moments
over years… surceased, rent, all.

Enthralled by accent, manner, eyes,
movement, hair, smile – still to find
that comp’ny, person, thoughts, ‘n laughter
(as far’s I ever knew them) fixed it faster:
that o’erwhelming darklight flood
(‘tween neurons fire; claim the blood).
From moment Then to moment Last
still here in the present (now the recent past)
is the bedrock weathered forever by
deep, unique, green Balkan eyes.

Broad and even steps.
A river, there, reflects the moment.
“…                   .”
Articulated. Selfish?
Pain shared and merely hurts another.

A cowbell rings.
My wrists? No longer red and white
to signal spring and friendship.

разкайвам се

Worn and worn;
boxed away, remembered.

Съжалявам

Deep, unique,
fascinating, friendly,
singing, sea-green Balkan eyes.

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