Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Poems

FIANCÉ

The reckless, scraped days flicker a moment, then are condemned. He must be better now, as Matthew converted took the crumbs and found joy— or joy was forced upon him. He must spend his mornings seeking gold for her, abashed by his early wanderings, his imperfections and alliances. There had been a Maria, an Ayşenür who stood within the shadows of her father with a violin. There had been wine, song, the blood of a dancing crowd. There had been deep romance he thought would never end, beds of daffodils in April, and April always.

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