feet dangle over frigid river currents
an island adrift
amid smokestacks and umbrellas
darkens under skeletal branches
as the sun nears the ground
rusted memories are sunk here
and covered in a thin layer of fog
waiting for a day of revival
that will never arrive
across the water
lovers stroll
colors matching their breakfasts
and childhoods
and the church stands silent
its bells poised for the hour
when another passing
brings music to my ears
and silence to the air
four shoes with soiled laces
crossed
waiting for the wind
swing on the hinge
and stretch over the Spree
submerged in cold
soon to step in another place
carried by the wheels of clouds
leaving only a reflection in the ripples
of a Saturday afternoon
the most painful moment...
ReplyDeletewhen you realize you must give up
that each second chance pulls you further underwater
my heart sank waiting for that day of revival
it will never arrive
you say
for once
I must agree
how tired I have become
in the battle against timing
a final visit