foreign refuge

 Of these there has been none. But the bare backed skin of the tonephone. That time they headed to Germany. Remember she was not breaking down. Nor the woman running to ask help from the busdriver. The busdriver was kind . No one said  a thing. We boarded the bus at Antwerp and softly ended out trip in  coy soft edge of the forest. I held a medal for her. Shew the night its prescient beast. love of their murmuring dark forest. And the timber the river sparkling and the air twittering....

Camping : she wishes for the heaven sent  bliss to continue ... and this is what brings memory and the thought of haze.