Wednesday, February 6, 2008


Lonely birds chirp like blind eels in gray sand,
as the wind scatter dead leaves by the shore.

Empty fields of dreams scorn her dainty fingers,
mourning and sorrowful, like some silent scream.

Her feet quivers, unsure and lost in this mystic ground,
yet she rises, like an old dying man wanting to disappear.

Now, she weeps beside me, unsure of the world around,
verily, summer is a sad song when true love is not found!