The smell of lemon stays in my hands
While I blow you a kiss
Next to the tea cups
At the Labi Haus
Immersed in thoughts
You’ve not been noticed
As I am going for a lonely stroll
Everlasting memories
Down the streets show me
How sensitive this city is for me
Like fresh, grated lemon
It doesn’t matter if you move around
Any land where you can run to
It does matter the way you recognize
The signs
How agile a collector
You can be
Passing by bloody-minded carpet sellers
Patient with your empty pockets
And delighted eyes
Two slits that need to see more
Lemon smell is still my company
On the way back
To the Labi Haus
You stare me in the face still
The tea-cozy is open
Your ears are open
And I begin to tell you everything
1 comment:
Geia sou vre Antigoni! Mou aresei para para polu to blog sou! Filiaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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