How strange it was on the day after...on that bright blue morning, at 10 o'clock in the morning..is there a precise time when things fall and fade, when the snow drifts away to other lands? You walked..I walked across the perfect lawn and found there shattered by my feet a thousand and a thousand more small pieces of lilac-coloured glass.
Your soul like a storm one walks into. As if there was or ever could be a "one" ! And if that death was a kind of life then what is this? A dream or a spell? Neither together nor alone. We separate entwined. How strange are the blue days...
There is a city, the city where I never(s) meet you. The words you never said, that I never heard. Your smile like a word found in nobody's heart.Your almost-green eyes that burned with such longing..but, alas, not for me. Say, how many fell, in the wellspring of your eyes like the fish-nets of the labyrinth sea?
Neither from the East or the West, how could I find a place with you? But tell me, gentle one, do you still hold the image of my face close to your breast?
2 comments:
This is lovely. The clear day after. Your lilac glass and your gentle one. Breaks my heart a little.
I better not say more. Self-censuring my deeper thoughts/feelings. "alas, not for me"
A girl can dream.
the music mirrors refract a thousand and a thousand more lilac pieces - separate but entwined in a lovely piece -and post.
Post a Comment