Re: dvbzvzv
You wrote me one Poem
in Europe
Perhaps the only poem
ever written.
The drops of wine
long forgotten -
lay lingering on my lips,
and
I could see The Rein.
"Dearest"
You claimed (much later),
That you have never even seen,
the walls
and walls of Rein.
I was coloured by your scrawl.
I remember,
I had stoped breathing when you
looked. Across,
A small island in the centre.
You were that island
Did you think of me then?
Dearest
I was the wave.