If words were colors,
I would strip the flashy neon signs
to a gauzy veil of flesh nuances.
If words were music,
my nocturne would be enticed
into the chamber roulades of the chatoayant fountains.
If words were sentient,
I would let them stroll the downtown maze
touching the resonant darkness of the naked water.
If words could talk,
I would make them sound,
over the muffled sighs of the carried away city,
in a single word that I wish to render.
The City
© Copyright: Tamara, 2001
Свидетельство о публикации №101012300033
Свидетельство о публикации №101012300033
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