
Once forever,
at some time
in my memory,
I was accused of
only being in love
with the idea.
Of being in love.
Of searching only
for the shadows of
the windmills.
All the while, stepping
on the impossible
flowers growing
in the concrete

Once forever,
at some time
in my memory,
I was accused of
only being in love
with the idea.
Of being in love.
Of searching only
for the shadows of
the windmills.
All the while, stepping
on the impossible
flowers growing
in the concrete