10:43 p.m.
tuesday eve —
bedroom parlour
***
i am glad that
mother graced me
with her existence.
her light that
entered from the
ajar doors of my
balcony kept me
company as i
waited.
patiently.
it wasn't long
when a hand
emerged from
the railings that
were painted with
rust. too ancient
to retain its former
glory. too tired to
fight its enemy —
the rain.
i ran to his aid —
his smile i first saw
when i peered
down. there was
no long hair on
me to help him.
so, the vines
succored instead.
i pulled him up.
holding too tight —
afraid of the ground
that wouldn't
hesitate to swallow
him if i were to let
go of. not yet. i still
need him.
***
YOU ARE READING
Our Vintage Dance on the Phonograph
Şiir"you and - me, we traversed at the eve of the colossal pages of our bedroom balcony." - excerpt there is no other dancing partner i would dance with other than you, my sun. you bring me to places that are wiped out of history - to the gardens of rui...
