Perfume comes to me

And brings me back to the years of the island where we are still

Old souls

Walking those white streets

Naked on the terrace while the coffee pot is boiling.

We are still there bathing in the smell of salt

Sweating with the sand, defining gods and skies.

We made kites from our words and dreams with our skin.

We didn’t know right or wrong

Only knew that which gave us pleasure.

We are all left with the memories we deserve.

 

M.

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