Motion

can’t stand still,
like streams, rivers, oceans all across our mother earth,

we’re mostly salt, water, and clichés spilled softly over coffee and a scone.

can’t stand still,

can’t be tied to titles, when you crave the time to roam –

all the galleries in the city, in Cologne, Paris, Rome,

couldn’t feed your appétit pour l’art.

just you and your lover,

alone on the open road,

can’t stand still.

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