CYCLE : STIGMA OF OUR SOULS
In a forgotten,old garden, nice
Trees approach death, dry up
As half-sleep thoughts of an old man
He’re almost abandoned, unhealthy
On tree trunks patiently climbs
Ivy, hops, wine wild
Like an old man’s memories
Recurring, protecting him
Spreading of trees overgrown
They unsupported bend, break
Just like plans, intentions,dreams
Bond, joyful once, decayed now
A little river between trees flows
Fly over it silver-wings dragonflies
Hence drains away yellow leaves
They flow by breeze knocked down
Dragonflies like news, like smiles
Leaves as hopes, thought’s shadows
Breeze like passage of time
River as garden’s heart, heart of man
Trough river, someone built a bridge
Wooden, strong, nice, intricate
He dreamed there, pondered
Walked with fiancee, with kids
There they greeted birds on the trees
Trees their grandfather here planted
A birds sedentary and birds migratory
Like those people had leave this place
Enters bridge here someone
Sometimes locking for something
Old heart of garden, heart of man
Is still alive, existing, he dreams
( September 26, 2025 )
