A misty morning,
out of many
when sunshine refused
to lighten up my world.
yet again
Comfort from divnity
was refused.
Lying wide awake..
Staring at the
wooden ceiling,
so close to my face
The smell of fresh wood,
mocking my presence.
counting cracks.
that went unnoticed.
the sweet music of chatter.
of people passing by
fragrance of wild roses,
in the air..
I close my eyes,
await the the transition
to the here after.
But no,
I wake up again,
after many years
to see a broken tombstone,
with a name,
erased by time yet again.
to witness that I
am alone..
in a world full of colors,
destined to witness nothing
but pain.
