if it weren't for love

A hundred years on, I mummify
Under pinetree and cyprest and
Children cloaked in 3D twirling
Unseeable, unfathomable bliss

So I grow older imperceptably
With each further quarter-hour
Drowning in the breathtaking
Fragrancy of pine-sap oozing
From the autumn heat of Lisbon

My sight and my aging trapped in
Hot golden amber

Wish you were here
Your perfect smile
To kiss sense into me


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