The skies are crying,
the breeze escapes from the window
and flows through my hair.
The cigarette ash engulfs itself
as I watch it dying.
What is? Will it always be?
Where was this melancholy hidden.
From there to here, and now where?
Looking within, searching beneath.
No shadows. No light.
The lime and the beer,
tease my senses.
Where am I?
I ask the wind,
and it has no answer.
Who am I?
I ask myself.
Being alone.
Observing myself.
Compromising desire for ambition.
Have to let go.
a lot more is on its way.
Look out for the clue
I did. I searched. I found
and then the mystery changed.
The memories of lost love and the lost love of memories.
****
