You can measure my love
in fathoms or by the shard of glass
lodged in my skin,
in the breadths and heights
I leave you sleeping
to appear in your lucid dream;
here we stroll in Zemun again
before I drown in the Danube
sunk by the salt of a tear
I surface in my home town
look for you in the midst of childhood
and all my toys,
in the widths and depths
I hear you waking
so begins the long walk towards you;
forty years on I take your hand
to fight and amend
all our battles lost.
gc©16
gc-photo-art 