Tuesday, April 5, 2016

On Storrow Drive

On Storrow Drive
(And this rain)

Her verse became a misty trip to distant links
perhaps the reason of sun's transference was false,
the fogginess beyond the borderlines and brinks
so abstractly reminds of her betrothal pulse.

A fourth dimension still, the street lights shine, retrieved,
her company, outside my ranging car, to stray,
the fog rescinds while falls upon two souls bereaved,
the dusky light and arbor trees' remoteness sway.

The breeze extends to be her touch upon my face,
and steadily conducts my courses to effuse,
our steadfast floats upon the brines that dreams encase,
a summer song of longing stills our souls bemuse.

How many sentiments a railroad jaunt ascribes
to trip beyond the borderlines and faded strings,
caressing touch of fingertips by airy brides,
her Sunday advent will become a bird that sings.

Perchance she's bending softly on my scriptures,
inside a car of a forever going train,
on Storrow Drive the wind reforms her features,
as we have missed our dreamy summer and this rain.

© Georgios Venetopoulos 10/09/2011, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic hexameter)