Wearing a drab dress, all white,
I see a girl child of about eight
seemingly lost, perhaps left alone to fight
her continuing wars with a callous world,
walking hurriedly all by herself along
a desolate street, that to me seems familiar
yes, it's in the part of the city, once I lived
which always was seen teeming with life
except perhaps in such mystery dreams.
Think of this, don't you in spirit live in many
different places, like hearts of lovers one cherishes
though now one hardly remembers, how
it happened and where it was or how many
different persona constitute, the 'You, you think are You'
Like a somnambulist she walks along the tree lined street,
I was watching her through a window set high,
as she passed a young palm laden with coconuts,
and then a strange feeling gripped me and said
"It must be she, standing in this cozy room's warmth
and isn't that I, taking faltering steps along the street,
where she has been never before and don't know
what awaits her or any other beyond that corner"
Is she a refugee from somewhere, an orphan whom
the world has jettisoned, with nothing to look forward?
An improbable adventurer aged just eight, still
ready to stare a dark, overcast day, on it's face fearless?
I just flew out of the window and was astonished at that feat
and the speed; who would think I could pull it off?
I flew following her as if fearing for my dear life,
as if she and I have a cryptic connection I forgot,somehow
Where is she?my heart in palpitation,I flow with the wind.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
Wearing a drab dress, all white,
I see a girl child of about eight
seemingly lost, perhaps left alone to fight
her continuing wars with a callous world,
walking hurriedly all by herself along
a desolate street, that to me seems familiar
yes, it's in the part of the city, once I lived
which always was seen teeming with life
except perhaps in such mystery dreams.
Think of this, don't you in spirit live in many
different places, like hearts of lovers one cherishes
though now one hardly remembers, how
it happened and where it was or how many
different persona constitute, the 'You, you think are You'
Like a somnambulist she walks along the tree lined street,
I was watching her through a window set high,
as she passed a young palm laden with coconuts,
and then a strange feeling gripped me and said
"It must be she, standing in this cozy room's warmth
and isn't that I, taking faltering steps along the street,
where she has been never before and don't know
what awaits her or any other beyond that corner"
Is she a refugee from somewhere, an orphan whom
the world has jettisoned, with nothing to look forward?
An improbable adventurer aged just eight, still
ready to stare a dark, overcast day, on it's face fearless?
I just flew out of the window and was astonished at that feat
and the speed; who would think I could pull it off?
I flew following her as if fearing for my dear life,
as if she and I have a cryptic connection I forgot,somehow
Where is she?my heart in palpitation,I flow with the wind.
Request permission to use this poem