As somewhat, it seems,
a vivid dim,
like reminiscent dream.
And in what looms lay,
is the colour cast.
A pastel blossom grey;
not quite a coda.
a kinda chroma key,
in this, the overcast.
*****
All the while in the wild,
we're working our way up the steps,
through the ruins,
of a long worn cathedral.
When in amongst that gloom,
I catch a glimpse of u,
peering through the cleft,
of a broken arched window.
Picking yr way through,
a crazy paving,
choking with brambles,
barely escaping.
Within a group of yr own making.
On yr way,
in another direction,
to a separate vault,
of indeterminate location.
A subterranean hovel to call home.
Beneath.............................,
away, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
from the fireworks display.
Before the bombs dropped.
Before the sun stopped.
-=-=-=-=-=-
I recognized you.
I ushered out, 'quickly come this way.'
I called out, 'quickly, ............ come this way! '
///************
**********************
***********
On the spot,
you turn about,
recollect a period,
circumspect.
That pretty placid look,
the fine lines and a stare,
Glared back and said everything,
to correct,
before u spoke.
With such good graces,
u say one last thing,
and I quote:
'I can never be where you are.'
////////**********
just when you turn away,
With devastation,
whipping up the wind,
such as you say,
and all knowing, meaning.
up until,
a uturn this morning,
was the last I saw of u.
///****
Just then before
the claxens sirened,
and we rushed to the blur
of a makeshift shelter.
Under the ground
and out of the way,
never to forget
that pastel blossom of grey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem