Peeking through the curtains
the soft summer morning
plays havoc around her
unruffled hair.
A night spent together
For a week's worth of work.
Feels like Christmas
In summer
Only as a child
And
Only half as lonely.
She gracefully sleeps
I wonder
How would it sound
If she snored.
I make coffee and breakfast
And we eat like
Whores.
And leave
Without exchanging numbers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem