Black and white rooms now grayed,
Its doors unhinged there laid
And webbed by the distant past
Unearthed with an eerie whisper,
Softly echoing through empty chambers.
I go through them when the mind
Rests easy in quiet slumber,
Like a phantom flowing through
Searching for images I knew.
Bearing this heavy longing
To find someone, something-
That could bring back somehow
A world so familiar, in my heart I know.
I try to walk faster, my steps were too slow,
Drained and strained, like a mist I go
Grasping at the fading light, now I see
To the closing of these doors,
.....I hold the key.
Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~~04.13.15
Artwork: 'Mother and Child' by V.Manansala
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem