Category: Poetry
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… a reminder that joy often arrives unplanned, like a sudden summer rain.
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Would you like some woollen mittens? Any colour you’d like.
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Footprints — September sunshine. The sound of rolling waves.
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… leaving only the warm air trembling in her wake
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You don’t take photos of the air around you
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… the kind where you turn a key and a steel bar slides through the spokes with a satisfying clunk. Park, click, walk away. Utterly civilised.
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… she demanded: “Co tam takiego ciekawego do fotografowania?”
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Fledermausgauben lifting from the tiles,
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She was thinking in two different languages at the same time…
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Some memories don’t fade. Niektóre wspomnienia nie znikają.
