Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Wrinkles - China ink on paper
My joys' source
has dried up.
I'm thirsty.
I'd like to drink,
but I find
only mud.
I loved the gush
tickling my nose.
Fresh and lively,
delighted also
the darker days.
Now its mud
obscure my life.
It doesn't quench my thirst,
it doesn't refresh,
it doesn't slide
on my lips.
There's no more water for me.
Not for me.

No comments:

Post a Comment