Still trembling my hands are caught
groping wildly
for your shadows
clinging onto my wall
during your last visit—
that image of wet Spring
on Summer’s dry breast ;
I remember how you left in a haste
that afternoon
without looking back,
I stood there all aback
like a thunder’s terrified stance
at the sudden break of a lightning
that burnt a heart
and a head loudly aching ;
I retreated into my cocoon
woven out of your warm memories
lying scattered like pearls
on the floor of my rosy dreams ;
and I scream now like a child
for a doll broken by an earthquake
that then was all of a sudden washed away
by Sorrow’s unknown strong streams.
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