A Day in Prague
Refrain from ascending or descending for the doors are about
Next station is the everlasting quiet,
The final destination for all.
She moved me as we walked
Through the winding alleys
Of the spire infested city.
Her hands were delicate ornaments
Like the art nouveau decking the columns
Of Sts Peter and Paul.
My head spun as we gazed down Vyehrad rock -
A knight once tumbled like a wine barrel from it.
We sat the afternoon in one of Prague's aromatic cafes.
Her phone kept interrupting with the pointless
Chatter of friends
But mostly it was her husband checking
That our hearts have not escaped their orbits. I laughed,
The tip of my tongue
Dipped in envy.
Night time jazz.
Aroused, we synchronized our souls
To the beat of the jam session
Then off to a cavernous Latino club
Where the heat of our bodies burned through clothes.
I brushed her hair back, moist blond strands that played
Curtains to dazzling hazel eyes. As she sighed, I heard
the feline in her purr the soft tune of undoing.
At one point, when the club was empty
And the dance floor belonged to us only,
She pressed her lips to my forehead. I wondered
How it would be if I learned to scribble bohemian verse.
But the voice kept calling: refrain from ascending or
For the doors are about to close.
Refrain from losing the head as well as the heart in this
She showed me a mocking statue of Wenceslas riding an upside
My equine soul sympathised. I wanted to gallop the
cobble-stoned streets with her
But the voice kept calling. The iron gate, guarding the hours
of our being,
The trinkets of happy moments, was closing. Time droplets
drained down the everlasting sink. I knelt to kiss her feet
then silently stumbled.
If you've any comments on this poem,
Abdulrazzak would be
pleased to hear from you.