Every meeting leaves an aftertaste -

Its echo... impression... motive...

its invisible magic...

multiplied on imagination...

an illusion...

the fragile fragments,

melodies and fusion...

Like a trail of the air behind you

Touches... words...

And coffee haze on a cloudy dawn

Melodies of the rainy undertone

Phenomenon of presence...

Everything is hidden in the "after":

bitterness... bliss... sweetness...

Joy and sadness...

Meetings and partings have their scent...

The windy elegy -

Appearing/ reappearing in a sunset...

By sorting out the notes and sounds -

The pulse is beating faster, stronger than before

There is an aftertaste to words and silence

The "after" is the spice of our love