who does one tell?
if I tell the wind,
my words may blow
into curious ears
the river?
might flow into the neighbour's garden
ah, the fallen tree?
the termites may eavesdrop
and the sun might feel
my words too gloomy for its warmth
so in search for solace, i tell the paper
run my fingers over rough grain
lock each letter with a pen
trap my grief in each syllable
and wish she could be alive to hear it
if I tell the wind,
my words may blow
into curious ears
the river?
might flow into the neighbour's garden
ah, the fallen tree?
the termites may eavesdrop
and the sun might feel
my words too gloomy for its warmth
so in search for solace, i tell the paper
run my fingers over rough grain
lock each letter with a pen
trap my grief in each syllable
and wish she could be alive to hear it