I Never Thought Procrastination Contained Romance

We drank coffee and talked for an hour

‘Il faut que la jeunesse se passé’
‘Guignol! mon semblable,—mon frère!'

Not everything was done with clean hands
But always with clean character

‘You gave me hyacinths last year to the day’
‘And you had wet hair and a promise’

Her hair glowed into words

‘Remember the warmth of winter?’
‘I’d rather not count eternity in seasons’

Dead trees give no relief, but for a shadow
They leave a heap of broken words exposed

At one point her shadow rose too high
Branches eventually die without roots

‘I know you’re forming smoke patterns with your eyes’
‘I really like that rug. It’s elegant – unintelligible.’

The wind crosses the Charles unheard in summer
Or maybe it’s the background to a song

It could be a song long forgotten, devoid of evening
It may have been danced through burgundy yesterdays

‘When we’re both old and gray, I’ll send you hyacinths’
‘It’ll be a dark wine hour, and my eyes will curse and storm’

It’s evening and the woman draws her black hair back
There was a moment of torturous surrender

‘If the sea was calm, my heart would have responded’
‘Storm is all I know, and the ruins lap against my walls.’