Antonín & Elena

Antonín

Thursday at 4

It's winter, it's snowing,

Leaving the icy gusts outside,

Seeking shelter slowly,

The coat trailing down the grand staircase.

So many memories of dances and intimate conversations,

A place to stay between the orange and green,

The marble and porphyry,

The golden chandeliers,

The blue peacock,

The velvet feathers of her dress,

That infinitely lighter sound,

Kept in his memory.

Elena

Train

Waiting on the platform

The blue blends with the orange

Of the rails

Of the tiles

Of the passing hours that carry away the

Last rays of light

-

Whenever it arrives,

Such uncertainty

The sound of metallic waves

Intensifies and then stops

Completely

The greetings, the faces,

The gestures always the same

Etched from lives separated

Or reunited

-

And we, still here waiting