Friday, 2 December 2016

В Шкодра/In Shkodra




What drew me
            was the timbre
                        of the timber

when we walked
            along the hall.
                        That was no place
           
you’d want to leave
            in a hurry –
                        the smell of it,

that resinous smell.
            Or was it
                        our breakfast ritual?

Coffee, fruit
            and a smoke
                        on the terrace.

So much to learn.
            And how everything
                        can just wait.


Image: Marina Shiderova; text: Tom Phillips


No comments:

Post a Comment