Rustling reeds
26 February 2020
Twirling knots
Renewing my hair
In between
Here and there
Pieces and strands flying high
Shadows in the sky
Lustre lost
My skin flakes so pale
Gathered soft
On my knees
Yesterday a place to tease
Dying memories
Rustling reeds
Escaping fingers
Paper boats
Lining up
Dropping tea stains from my cup
I hear the silence
Reading of the poem:
Ólafur Arnalds – Not Alone
Geetha Balvannanathan's Blog - Isis Tratum