donderdag 22 januari 2015

22 January 2015

With naked feets on the dusty sand road

Dust floating around

I will arrive when you must have been there

tracks of traffic

While the view of branches in the garden stay the same

I watch you proceeding

while they would line up waiting to cross roads

continue their way

the news has already been written

you whispered that I could undress

But I'd  like to arrive barefoot on the road

through the desert

impressions of your presence

Stay and feel the layer of sand heating up

Who would you ask?



Geen opmerkingen:

Een reactie posten