Poetry

Maybe I will see you later coming down the street,
past bastions of brick and steel
where people lock their house, are disguised knights
and I wish that a kind of peace will come.
Maybe you will smile like you sometimes do,
stop for moments to hear a poem,
and I wish that you will linger a little longer;
doll you have previously bewitched me:
to you I have lost my heart some time ago.