It was a cold morning of John.
All around was your scent.
The smell of freshly roasted coffee wrapping itself around the gentle hint of lime that was I.
The inevitable bloom of the flowers of Spring whispered to me a screaming conclusion, warning me of my nearing destruction.
It was as if they were rudely reminding me of our unusual combination.
That lime can never be compatible to coffee,
that 'I' and 'you' can never be an 'us'.
But that's okay,18 seconds is enough for our lovestory.
- This post is an allegory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very well written, Monica. Thanks