-- Chorus --
I’ll pull up curtains,
Open the doors
And will make love to you.
It’s snowing, raining, burning hot.
It’s what I’m going through.
------------
The sounds sunk into the walls,
And stars licked shadows off.
The uninvited silence crawls
To cuddle my alcove.
Nothing but a breath-strength murmur
Of the Ether in the room –
An invisible observer,
Of my dreams disloyal groom.
You will walk into my house
With an orb of setting sun,
With a lull before the chaos,
With your hair half undone.
Dusk leaks through the draped off window,
Covers you and me with blanket
Of seductive innuendo
Of the awkwardness of quite.
February 8, 2009
At dusk, or an awkwardness of quite
© Copyright: Костя Альтман, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109052201256
Свидетельство о публикации №109052201256
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