Zu Brandenburger Tor

I remember gentle prints in snow,
Delicate touch and distance.

The immense grey, cut down
so that we might share it,

Each taking one side of a line,
Drawn up in concrete and wire.

I chose grandiose marbles,
Steel and glass that reached,

Unable to touch love’s face,
Yet reaching nonetheless,

Broad streets, endless concrete
filled with dreams of fancy,

Parks of art and life and
voices that burble and pray.

She chose something else.
Something I will never know.

zu brandenburger tor


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