late summer in Bologna

and for those of you who die to see the colours :-)

still summer

despite what you say, it is still summer, i need summer still, i cling to it and most of all to that gesture of yours when you slowly raised your hand, the fingers stained by the red of berries, the dress all sparkling under the sun, and made as if to touch me, through the thicket of little white flowers swaying in the wind. 

instead, you picked a flower and turned away, walking away from me with its thin stalk between your teeth.

ah, the summer fields (2)

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