Windowsill- poem

When this is all over, and your eyes become nondescript blue,

and your name something that started with some letter,

I’ll still remember windowsill, call me weird.

When your face is filled with generic features

to make up for time and negligence, the odd detail

of that time you asked me how to say windowsill in English

may come up to my mind, as if my drunk feat

of mastering my shyness in the hostility of the street

and coming up to you, to exhaust all my charms,

staking my frail emotions was all simply

for you to remember how to say windowsill.


I'm a writer born in Argentina, but currently living in Poland. I work as an English and French teacher, translator and copywriter.

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