Song of the Danube

Where would you go from love?
if not in my roll of fire eye
and tobacco ashes lips
if not at my heart tips 
in between your fingers
stained with silence
if not in my of hope, grips
bittersweet time trips 
at the corner of your patience teeth
and the squeezed bottom of my belief 
from your bad to my habit
riding into you those giant waves of necessity
and winds of indifference
oh you burn me with abundance
between time to time
off your every breath as i rhyme
 wearing my Wagner shawl of love
and twirling in your flesh rings of smoke.
  
Where would you away run?
if not into my out of a pink box sun
where my literal rays kiss your face
into life
if not in the crowded streets of my touristic verse
and the cobble stoned alleys
of your sweet palinka prose
taking the waters in a Hungarian stream
and after a night long of what it may seem
from wailing the cat in the Turkish baths 
to straddling the Danube lover of a river
whispering to the Buda hills as you shiver
and leaving a note to the no forgetting
at the For Sale pub.

Where would you rather of the truth hole up?
if not in my acceptance womb cave
your bearded lies itch in your shell   
everywhere in your city of sadness tell
over the bridge of innocence,
the iron shoes on the banks of hell
a line of tears roll
on the cheeks of my Timewheel
where the reel gets real
my year in your moments
is how i learned to add and sub.

Passing through the puzzle squares of my mind
i meet your Coloumbo thoughts memorial
and a flashing bulb light
i smile 
every sign is a mile
that i cross in your garden of philosophy
a proud Akhenaton will wink back at me
and a Buddha shall fly a kiss
oh that i could never miss!
across your royal Kempinski tree
I will remember the time
with a rose in hand
and a hanging black and white photograph.

My dear heart guide
where but in love would you ever hide
the heart keeps breaking until it's open
and the soul has wings and a sky of its own
where to meet if never apart
where to end if we only start
Pin the confusion ball
spring the cherries of my fall
sing to me with forgiven Adams
as i from a Book cafe to a Ruin bar,
run to you.