Thirst

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.

 

05/02/2007