Tree leafs started shaking when I held her hand,
and a wine glass attends to my presence and appearing to have been brought to me by a troubadour!
My consciousness started to seesaw from how much awakening I had in me … from being so blue … and you?
You were praying to the Goddess of Silence, and that’s how Silence slept soundly in your palms,
and upon you,
every evening, the rain falls,
upon you .
You pass through the block just before pheasants wake up,
before the early travelers hit the roads searching for a lost morning, and I seek you while carrying an antique window that is ornamented with ancient pale colors, and my inner lake opens its doors to what remains of my fear and love … and then ….
you leave … you.
In ruins we’ve become, like a wrecked canvas portrait with very little recognizable features …
like old photos of old newspapers in your stuffy attic, in you.
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