Winters without woolens
First winds of first winters
Began crossing the deep trenches .
I wonder, when you brought me gloves
We could interlock our fingers
within the same pair as a mark of our love.
First moon of first winters.
Began seeking shade in this empty rift
Made by my arms along
the sidelines of cold desert.
I wish, your jacket could shower sweat
That's what I love to taste.
First night of first winters,
Began growing more romantic,
The quilt is waiting for the bodies
to swap into another.
But I'm living with your virtual presence
With the pillow over my chest .
Now I'm brewing a cap
that you forget to brought
With thread of nostalgia
Hidden in my heart so
That it could hide the shallow river
Drowning along the periphery of my lashes.
Are your arms still warmed?
Are your fingers still craving mine?
Do you still seek to taste sweat?
Because winters are craving my body,
And you were the perfect insulation.
Be my woollens for these winters.
A little longer and for years and years.