HarthPoetry

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Hotel de Ville, Room 3272

No corpse

Can be as exquisite as yours

If my memory fails

The trail of your perfume

Still remains and reminds

 

An evening of no delay

The moment was forever

 

Our tongues spoke different languages

Our hearts were seized in unison

 

We surrendered to the storm

Of illegal imagination

 

I lowered the shades

And the night became ours

 

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.07.10.09:55:00@MontrealQC