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Before the storm




Your dress, it’s pink with roses in it.
It reminds me of the pink posters on the road to Tirana,
when I had a good laughter dancing in the main street,
6 AM run; down the lake road with Anna.

The coffee in Chéri ,
when we skipped a lesson or two…
Physics, made me feel numb
so I bunked it, together with you.

Then midnight cocktails in the Old Block clubs,
a hot colored top and ripped short jeans.
We gave up on heels for sequined flip flops,
a Mojito, a dance, and dreams

On the beach on a summer weekend
playing volley till the sun goes down…
Then to bars listening to some old fashioned band.
The waves caught us dancing, underneath stars.

The dress, the beach and the music of the old band
as we come out of the sea when the sunset burns red,
dark waves of hair play with the wind and sand,
the warm, salt-smelling air playing with my head.




 

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