She said to me, 'I search for the way'
It was a little tearful voice
Couldn't see her, but heard her say
'Lost, Mister', above all the noise.
My big clock stopped ticking
My heart stopped beating too
Her sandals were torn and green
Her long dusty brown hair caught my view
'From where do you come, to where do you go'
She said, 'I'm a prisoner of my own device
'I seek dreams of milk and honey-flow
'Do lead me beyond these fires'
The wind whistled, an owl cried, but she was still there
Whimpering, she dropped to her bruised knees
A kid behind the hazel eyes and ageing hair
She needed one more loving arm and a tender kiss
My big clock started ticking again it seems
Closed my door and eyes and shut her away
In my sleep I still see her in my dreams
She says to me, 'I search for the way'
TIM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem