Morning
while the early dawn's cold wind,
bruises against your lovely cheeks,
may my longings gently pass,
through the air, into your waking self ...
for it shall bring along my passions,
the kisses that I scattered for you,
looking at the starry night sky, and
the hugs that I sent looking at the lonesome moon.
place your palms soft on your restful face,
let it convey the warmth and heat,
that my burning body released into the bed,
while tossing and turning sleeplessly in your memory ...
while you are ready to take on the world,
gently-softly open the windows of your heart and soul.
let me reside there intoxicated in your contemplation,
smiling with you in joys and burning with you in times of rage and pain
- Doni Rimo -
Yesterday I unexpectedly heard the theme song of the movie Love Story. Huh, such shivers it sent down my spine.
It was the song of the most Casablanca-esque moments of my life.
Once, a very, very long time ago I fell in love with a foreign man. We lived continents, cultures, religions -worlds - apart for some years, missing each other every second of the way, building up world-class phone bills (this was an era before Skype, even before a functioning internet connection in faraway countries).
He would sit in a place called the Atrium Café, writing 30-page letters to me, asking the pianist to play the Love Story again and again.
Finally, when we were together he took me to the Atrium Café to meet the pianist. It became Our Place. And every time we emerged from the (red) carpeted, antique, wood-paneled staircase, the pianist played the Love Story for us.
~*♥*~
