light falls on the doorstep
where you left your goodbyes
footsteps mere echoes of distant memories
a faceless message
through the letterbox
leaving no chance of a brushing of hands
that may evoke compassion once shared
only dust waits
and streetlamps
that play softer songs in tribute to kinder times
while the taste of your scorn
still bitter on lips
returns
for the encore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem