#3 Holding Hands

I hear the echos. Ours. Through the silence in the hall. In the City. Under the flickering lamp, certain that it was real and that there we stood (or that there we remain) and who goes by there makes an ugly face (just like when they see us).

Holding hands we’re eternal. I shout, you hear. You answer. And I hear you, smile, and I continue on my way.

TWR

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s