Milan Mist

As days, weeks, months, lives end, sometimes hopes do as well. Yet there always remains a glimmer of possibility that somewhere, somehow, love can be renewed.

 

 

This night

the fog envelopes me

with a tranquility beyond that of the grey day.

 

How much I would like to have you near this night!

 

Among my fears of obstacles past,

there you rest

to soften my present.

 

Long discussions of senses, hope and solitude

mixed with dialect, wine and caresses of caring

stop time.

 

“Who needs time?” Live the present.

 

 

Only a choice gift of champagne brings us to feeling

and the wish that

this is not the usual clouded deception

at the bottom of the crystal-cut glasses and the last bubble burst.