The old cobblestone french streets,
are filled with drunks in a never ending party.
Laughter rings out, and we wait,
for our horse and buggy ride.
Strangely together,
still after all of these years.
The air between us is comfortable,
and warm.
It changes along with the gas lights
lining the streets.
A flicker here, a flicker there.
We are complicated. We both know that.
So much love over the years,
has it begun to recede?
Your familiar scent calms me.
Ralph Lauren and ivory soap,
mixed with a warm smell of fine brandy.
I've always been a glutton. Just which type?
Is it your strong and familiar face that I can't
let go of? Or am I just a sad glutton for
punishment?
Riding home, I turn the radio as loud
as you will allow.
Somehow we found silence again, and
I don't want to hear it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a short story well written with the pessimistic thought. thank u