Carving.
Più o meno faceva così..
Nor hope nor laughter
We let the moment rise like birds and planes and angels to the sky.
Eternity is this.
Your breath on the window-pane
Living walls with shining eyes.
The surpise of spires, uncompromising verticals.
Knowing we have spared to lifting out our faces up for one more day.
Into one more sunrise.
