Every meeting leaves an aftertaste -
Its echo... impression... motive...
its invisible magic...
multiplied on imagination...
an illusion...
the fragile fragments,
melodies and fusion...
Like a trail of the air behind you
Touches... words...
And coffee haze on a cloudy dawn
Melodies of the rainy undertone
Phenomenon of presence...
Everything is hidden in the "after":
bitterness... bliss... sweetness...
Joy and sadness...
Meetings and partings have their scent...
The windy elegy -
Appearing/ reappearing in a sunset...
By sorting out the notes and sounds -
The pulse is beating faster, stronger than before
There is an aftertaste to words and silence
The "after" is the spice of our love
