Mr. Bergstrom
02-25-2009, 03:18 PM
Prague
Prague, and a bus window revitalised me,
flashing a reflection
of you and me
holding hands under an umbrella.
Behind us, a flower seller reminding us
of our change
abandoned in his hands.
Oblivious to anyone other than ourselves
we stared at the yellow shelves
of jewelry stores
melting like butter
in a downpour over Prague. My heart
manipulated by a fancy restaurant
quivering in a puddle, I proposed.
Street lamps shone through the trees as jewelry
illuminating bird nests, the brittle attics of Prague.
The city in which you punctured my heart.
© 2009 Martin Daniels
Prague, and a bus window revitalised me,
flashing a reflection
of you and me
holding hands under an umbrella.
Behind us, a flower seller reminding us
of our change
abandoned in his hands.
Oblivious to anyone other than ourselves
we stared at the yellow shelves
of jewelry stores
melting like butter
in a downpour over Prague. My heart
manipulated by a fancy restaurant
quivering in a puddle, I proposed.
Street lamps shone through the trees as jewelry
illuminating bird nests, the brittle attics of Prague.
The city in which you punctured my heart.
© 2009 Martin Daniels