You are now the smell of bonfire in the cold spring night
The last ray of sunshine in the dimming evening light
The first sip of prosecco when you’re already intoxicated
And the lingering love from foreign words not yet translated

You’re the movement under my hands, so silently, so slow
Too gentle, too good, our kiss chasing an eternal glow
You are the softness of the blanket on the morning dew
The sheltering serenity of our rainy rendezvous

The laughter in the shadow of the palm tree
The embrace in the moonshine
You are the whole world around me

But never mine.



Clara Zoellner

3rd culture kid currently exploring the wonders of the UK