Tibor V. VargaThe time traveller
One wish, and time just flies. I don’t need
A button, I don’t need science or a genie, I only need a dream,
A dream, from there is no waking up... I shut my eyes,
In front of me there is blackness, and there are colours, there are shapes, there are scents, slowly I’m able to realize where I am, how I am, and most importantly, when I am; what I feel is some delusion, some love, some pleasant lifesaving magic, something whole, something like this is the end of the road, stop, there is no further; I feel something simple, a miracle. I feel the scent of your clothes. I feel your skin, I’m intoxicated, but I feel your skin, it is warm, I ask you to let me closer, I feel what is rare, I feel everything which starts secret whispers, I feel something which some people would give everything to feel, I feel something which is everything.
If I opened my eyes, the ceiling of my room would stare back,
White, solemn, scent-less, far from everything I desire,
And although the morning tries to spread my eyelids,
I feel the light coming through my window, I need to wake,
For a little more – please, dream, stay – I keep my eyes closed,
I try to catch the outlines of you fading figure.
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