it's those moments, vacant
that I remember,
it's those times lost
that I regret
there are days of joy
days of sorrow, sunny or foggy
of thre same complex,
night of haunting,
sighs of tears and so many whys
I try to keep busy,
work is so therapeutic
drives away memories
unwanted,
it's the in between times
so difficult, creep up and loom
hides from tongues,
tied up inside
still time surface
eyes of memory stare back
mouths laugh and scream,
shattered shards and stormy dust
pungent tangy memories
crawl up the nostrils,
sting and irk
tendrils of nagging time
envelope and choke
soft tender antennae of illusions,
oh to get myself beyond
that haunting night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem