An Old Chair



On the old chair
Where our souls are still driveling,
And our eagerly is quivering through waiting

There
Where you could call me “my love”
And I‘ll call you “my life”

There
I was wondering
What is worth of not holding each other hands…?
Loyalty for what remained from our fingers’ fires,
For what remained from our voices’ winter...our days’ dignity...

There
I was wondering
What is worth to separate?
Maybe on that chair your touch is still there…calling me
Or
A star...Escaped from a deep kiss...
Maybe //who knows
But now…

We are wondering...
What will we do when that old chair will remember us…?
What will we do when that old chair will remember us…?