Your seven futures know
the name that you did not
allow me to write.
At your twenty and a few
all are possible.
The rounds of yesterday
encouraged us
to meet this morning.
When you asked
Bucharest to wait for us.
A few more hours
in that corner.
Between shadows
of socialist concrete and
trees to hug in the boulevard.
We said goodbye
while you started
to dream again.
With ocher, blue and
yellow lands.
Of Holi+ and your springs.

+Hindu festival of ‘colours’ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holi

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Text & picture© Guillermo G. Schiava D’Albano – ristretto230@gmail.com 
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Para leerlo en español ->https://ristretto230.com/2018/05/28/mar-bucarest-spanish/