of solitude,
barren
harsh
no boundaries,
a reflection of melancholy
drenched
hopeless
resigned.
My life is a sea of stormy water,
treacherous
rough
poisoned,
an inconceivable lake of sorrow
to no affections.
My life is a cow-web,
tenuous
frail
extremely weak.
I end there where I thought of beginning,
and in the fervor of who had believed
there is now no caress
nor simple smile,
just teardrops running down the face
and to the heart
before vanishing into the horizon.
Night is death
waiting wearily in the shadows,
not a thought crosses me
nor the joy of so many dreams,
the memories have disappeared
at the scent of summer,
one cloud has gone by
then another
and another......