Ianira

I stand by an unlit lamp, a tree, a bridge, the remains, of dinner like a tramp, does my unkindness share, your red lips and white face, a cigarette to spare, waiting for the clamp, forgotten fountains of champagne, who needs mountains, when you can send a stamp, like loading a freighter, from hotel rooms in France, you were happy there, listening to the rain, you always let me declare, show you the dance, whiling time at brown cafe's, what we needed to enhance, you didn't say.