Monday, November 14, 2011

NIGHT THIRST



I wake without my memories
When I alone on nights
I’ve slept and my throat is dry
Creaking, the night air
Evaporates my past in mind like
Beads of fragile moisture
And the vapor escapes of lovers
I’ve had and finer days
When I have drunk cool water

© 2011 Yorgo Douramacos

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