Poem of the Week | July – Margarita Serafimova

July

By Margarita Serafimova

One morning when I was an object of desire by the gilded sea,

the wind was making exquisite waves,

and a man took a picture so as not to forget.

 

 


 

The sunset was marching.

It was slowly marching, it was high.

I was standing at the place that it would reach.

A palm was standing above that place.

No one of us was rushing.

We knew about the stars.

 


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Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash