Sitting near the mountains of Jura
I'll be honest, attractive and brave
I’m so sorry, my darling, but you are
Not my ocean, my sea. Not my wave
.
Writing poems about the Future
And describing the things as they are
I’m so sorry, oh besame mucho,
But your wave runs from mine very far
.
I was happy I had you in my life
And I hope you'll be happy again
Now your wave is your private Delilah
And I can get you out of my brain
.
Denis Tokarev, Geneva, 09.01.2020, 09:41