a Guinness in Temple Bar
an acoustic guitar without a scar
alone yet somehow fulfilled
tears of wishes unkilled
a tattoo to be forgotten
a scarf made out of cotton
one luggage but many possessions
journeys jammed in one heart session
a stranger whose sitting close-by
a conversation that is now running dry
a day without a clue
and I, I just turned..
Written in Temple Bar, Dublin on 15/09/2010 at 14:22.