I grew in the north.
Summers are short there.
I never saw a winter.
As a child, every Sunday,
I assisted in the Mass.
I never heard an organ.
My last love was in my youth.
I never loved a woman.
I never commited suicide.
Once I wanted to jump from the fifth floor.
A pregnant woman walked along the pavement.
How could I frighten her?
Write me letters. Write to me.
How shall we live?
(Antanas Skema)
More Poetry from Antanas Skema:
Antanas Skema Poems based on Topics: Death & Dying, Youth, Woman, Winter, Love, Letters, SummerReaders Who Like This Poem Also Like:
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