Ina

We stand by an unlit lamp, a tree, a bridge, the remains, of dinner like two tramps, who cannot bear, your red lips and white face, or a cigarette to share, suggesting the stamp, of forgotten domains, and faded glamour, like you were happy there, listening to the rain, before velvet au pairs came, and lost you a mansion, staking their claims, while your horses pranced, now your ace is distance, a cool look outside cafe's, showing them the dance, seeing eyes race.