I love this little polish café
away from the hustle and bustle of Brussels.
It exudes a mysterious softness and soothing quiet.
Warsaw's winter story few years ago ...
In front of my coffee ,attentive observer ,
I am writing a letter to this friend who is only myself
and your name in my mind ...
Old romance taking me back in time .
Tender Beata you were close to me,café Mozaika .
There was a sweet warmth in the air
a few mood of marzipan ,some gingerbread feelings
and your discreet violet water ....
Outside the snow flakes whirled like a merry mazurka .
Beata , a drop of tea danced on your lip
like a fragile pearl. Was it already like a tear of farewell ?
Time likes to play with memory in a romantic style ,
mischievously mixing the seasons of life ...
We're left with only the bitter taste of some creamy sweets
and ocean of regrets in an empty mug ...
I love this little polish café who offers a slow baltic tide
to the languor of my flat country ...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 22nd, 2024 02:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments4
Memories and associations paired in how a place, foods, smells evoke the past and the feelings that accompany them
A bridge linking the seasons of time ...
An atmosphere of quiet melancholy and tenderness. Very beautiful!
Thank you Len for your gentle comment !
Great write
Thank you tony !
You're not
Excellent ink .. made me feel more than nostalgic for a place I've never been .. Neville
this was my secret wish friendly reader !
It's not hard to see why
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