our golden time
and our song
still in my head.
There comes a warning like a spy
A shorter breath of day
A stealing that is not a stealth
And Summers are away /E. Dickinson/
How can I describe this place full of light?
How can I show things have happend to us?
Somehow I cannot find proper words to speak
about our time with Tina and Kasia.
I sigh only because of this great silent happiness.