Urban Glue

Urban Glue

In house of prose and verse,

In a fluttered, paper rain,

Did my core itself be covered,

In a rose-pink, quill-writ hurricane.

 

Kiss the clock,

And count the seconds spent away,

But does not arrive a second train,

As the first train leaves its bay?

 

And were time and lonely space,

Cold knives to splice in two,

Our helixed, entwined souls,

Is Seoul our Urban Glue?

RK

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