Love under an umbrella
In front of the mirror. Studying the deep folds on my forehead. Trying to see somekind of a future in them, just like a gipsywoman.The clock strikes seven in my livingroom, but my body tells me that it is time for sex.
Its raining.
I'm opening my umbrella, hoping to share it with someone.
But first:
I have to dare meeting the crowd out there...
Poetry by Leif H T Strand
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Written on 2006-10-24 at 16:45
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