Sunday, March 27
Not knowing the river deep,
they kept wadding, anxious,
up and down, up and down,
floating like dead wood,
don't they know love is missing,
in March, love is on leave.
Why wait at the river banks,
uniform lines of fancy skirts,
shining shimmering silver ribbons,
all lazy under the afternoon sun,
are they blind or deaf, ignorant,
in March, there is no passion.
i swam and drifted too,
from bank to bank till the river end,
one eye wary of the water,
another on the girl(s),
not even a waft of air this afternoon,
this March, there is no love.
- Gp 2005 - 27/03/2005
it rains around the world sleep welcomes the dream, and enigmatic souls awaken along the eternal shores of destiny