Friday, 31 May 2024

πŸ‘‹ mime me a goodbye πŸ‘‹

 

πŸ‘‹ mime me a goodbye πŸ‘‹


the wind talks mime 

hands me the trees shadow-dance

on the warm cobbles of a late may 

june will mime this summer clime


i remember a past summer’s mime

dumb

you said

when you left 


your wave was a mime 

but it wasn’t mine

you had taken the glass wall away

smashed the mirror of my mime

i am dumb ~ yes


i can hear myself saying

mime me love with your white gloves

your white face your cherry lips


the wind is not angry but rather sad 

on my skin as it caresses a sush sush 

sush now close it all down my lad 


the tears of a clown didn’t the song sing

as the sun settled it all

once and for all

look

the moon has her white gloves on

her moth-dusted hands wave

but alas alas 

two upturned hands says it all


one tear is wiped away

majestically 

one smudge 

is drawn out

one last wave

is halted

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