Kyoto old-town

lunch in the Old-Town
flown in six thousand miles

to see through a half-open door

him sullen
peeling potatoes
crouched on the red-tiled floor

he sees the bulge of my wings
beneath my coat
and sighs

Kyoto Spring is chilling
as the egg-yolk breaks and fries

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!