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
Added by Poetry Lover
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