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Filled with frustration I search, running up stairs and down alleyways, exploring old streetcorners but you are nowhere to be seen. The streetlight above me casts an evil grin on the wall, as if to remind of this foolish hunt.
One might think I should have grown accustomed to this loneliness but now, but you are all wrong and I shall search until my feet are soar with blood. Nothing, not even the dark valley of shadows will hold me back.
My hands will eventually grow numb by the evening chill but I shall carry on. On and on til' my heart stops or you are found.
2 kommentarer:
This makes me think of fairy tales I have read...the searching and searching...I once wore out a pair of boots one February years and years ago. There was no hope of finding who I was looking for. He was miles and miles away...but walking through the snowy woods somehow felt right to me. My heart didn't stop, and he wasn't found. But somehow spring came slowly, and slowly I began to heal...Ida, you are so creative and write such beautiful poetry. Don't ever stop.
Ida,
I love your lovely pictures, but this time of the year I have to fight depression and it's not easy for me to read your sad poems. It only causes me to become sadder. So for the time being I will check the pictures, but bypass the poems. I hope you understand.
Hugs,
Ann
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