carving garbled hearts on wooden planks | 1 |
of steel benches ghoulish in their melancholy | 2 |
| |
a stranger with no maps | 3 |
just the cheerful crackle of your smile | 4 |
reduced to a photograph | 5 |
I pass by the scandalous basilica, | 6 |
the ancient tower leaning on an idle clock | 7 |
where your labyrinth soul nestled | 8 |
to the thought of my assuming presence | 9 |
and hurried legs jived to a pink umbrella | 10 |
I stood here for a spell of near memories; | 11 |
a red phone booth on a cobblestoned avenue | 12 |
which you may revisit and walk away | 13 |
but do not make the mistake of- | 14 |