Snow

SNOW The snow falling from the sky above the dark cities separating us... it is thick and fast covered up all my past as I stomp on it underneath that purity lays the silver pavement and it feels the paces’ of my tired feet listen; my naked sycamore tree, orphan leaves’ dark skies do not veil the face of the moon do listen to the rhythm of my boots, just like yours... the ocean breeze, islands, cliffs, mountains, flying birds, this is nothing like mother’s sigh it’s a whisper to the absent lover hear; the heat of my boots turns the snow into rivers you and I fathoming in these shimmering surfaces and we become the ocean. Günsel Djemal 21/12/2009 London