Old Old Kiss

Old Old Kiss
Seeking a light outside
Like moths round candle flames
Ink blots on the surface
Of a broken smile
Interrupted signs

And many living things
Seem to be made of wax
Shiny and cold

Two bottles fall and smash
Or flying bombs explode
We cannot hear

And someone finds relief
In work or in a kiss
Sweet fruits to eat

For me the greatest gift
Would be the tide to lift
Carrying you home

In the morning we'll meet