MEETING PLACE

Come to meet me,
In the little vacations of yours.
We shall play, our little games
Of no win and no loss.

Come to meet me,
In the lost nights of torrid darkness.
Where words jump into their funeral,
And lit up your face.

Come to meet me,
By the shores of that sea
Where every drop would be you
And every grain of sand, me.

Or, if you say,
I would wait, till it snows
When we both pick warmth,
In each others breathe.