A Special Bed

Street by street I wander the city I go I come I string the pearls of moments on the slender thread of the day. My shoulders firm. Neck straight. Head held high. A smile not to be wiped away on my lips. Drenched in the scent of spring’s abundant jasmines: invisible, filling my embrace with the passage of your breaths over my skin, in the bed of love. Risen from the bed of love: head held high. The city will forever see me thus: a smile not to be wiped away amid the dust...