You are tightening me to your chest, but the grip
is belonging already to moments
of our history- like an error, a blip,
a frustrated but wonderful promise.
You are holding me in your arms and your kiss
is attempting to spell reassurance,
which my thoughts, with the knowledge of future, dismiss
and prepare my heart for endurance -
the endurance of days bleached by absence of you,
and the void of a bare horizon,
where grief and distress, toiling like a crew,
are by merciless centuries wizen.
Yes, the train departs, and you are in my past
in my memory’s shadow hidden,
where your image takes shape - an accessible cast
moulded from our moments forbidden.
Though my body still savours the warmth of your hands,
my anxiety triggers despair,
which takes root in my mind and now expands,
of your future betrayal aware.
8 November 2011
Premonition
© Copyright: Альбина Кумирова, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120102409074
Свидетельство о публикации №120102409074
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