Your Hand Full of Hours

Your hand full of hours, you came to me - and I said: Your hair is not brown.

So you lifted it lightly on to the scales of grief; it weighed more than I...

On ships they come to you and make it their cargo, then

put it on sale in the markets of lust -You smile at me from the depth, I weep at you from the

scale that stays light. I weep: Your hair is not brown, they offer brine from

the sea and you give them curls ... You whisper: They're filling the world with me now,

in your heart I'm a hollow way still! You say: Lay the leafage of years beside you - it's time

you came closer and kissed me!

The leafage of years is brown, your hair is not brown.