Apart But Both We Are Humming '...Love Me...' Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

are coughing bus stops fresh from the flu
the grey dusk is still gliding with streets
this warm wine slowly already is heating
the quiet singing is surprising me all of a sudden

the net curtain drawn back for us is discovering
only small mysteries because feels
my eyesight isn't probably accidental

leaned forward lightly is freeing onself from
the filminess of her dress to other to put on
what will dim everything already in a minute
she will go away, behind the darker pane hidden

nestled into the warm and soft stole
I will hear her words in the morning invariably
'I love you baby....my dear I love you'

bus stops, from the flu loud are coughing
the grey darkness somewhere is slowly dispersing
the sip of the warm wine already did its share
apart but both we are hu mming '...love me...'