A Possibility

LITERARY CORNER

The city

is still a possibility–

a winter noon

as I touched the warmth of Sveta’s friendly hands

and realised…

a little later my hands forgot the touch, and remained with me

lonely as ever. 

 At the crossroads 

among the crowds awaiting the traffic signs

there was no meaning anywhere

for my body; 

nowhere the quiet and intimate warmth

I could call my love, my very own. 

The slight breeze, 

a little out of place

and giving it a mild shake

a bus stopped:

bitterly I tried to give my tenderness

to my hands, holding the steps tight

and thought of the hands that had held them

not so long past,

and the body belonging to those hands

which had found its meaning

in another.

And then I found  few words

which I cold put in their place… 

Shivering in the incoming breeze

my heart had a hope

for my hands, for my poems

-The city,

is still a possibility…