Rani Turton

When that sadness comes upon me

That mystic, mad melancholy;

When realization hits me

I am here, now, my body and bits of my soul

Some of it, but not the whole.

There are fragments of me left in this city

Bits of my heart, parts of my destiny

Brought me here; sometimes when beset by self-pity

Motes in my eyes, holes in my heart

Torn, torn, and almost forlorn.

Walking on a Parisian bridge

Stepping to another tune; wait a while:

A song is yet to be sung, let me wait for another rhyme.

There are clouds and there are dreams

Dreams, yes, as misty as those clouds; I, myself at times

Seeing myself walk on, walk on, plod.

There are bridges and some dreams

Still, there are paths to be trod.


Copyright: Rani Turton