The Whispering ATM

Yusuf Achmad

Reminding me at the ATM, my love,
Is not worth that coin.
Poetry is a witness, whispering silently,
Wealth and beauty are women’s traits, they say.
But I don’t care, only following the heart,
My love is pure, since the promise was etched.

Even though I don’t know if your love is the same,
After time and false promises separated us.
The initial affection I still hold tight,
Even though your heart no longer nurtures.
Your heart shattered, we are separated by time,
Clothes changed, not just one.

Poetry stops reminding me, it’s sad,
In my dream, it still unites.
Witnessing our meeting not just once,
In that dream, it echoes again.

Surabaya, 16-1-2023