Wounded Memories

I walk towards the mountains, the wind curling my fear.

The road is long and winding ...Ringlets twisting my memory.

My heart holds deep inside the last kiss, lingering like a torment.

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Can you feel my sorrow ? Can you sense my grief, so daring?

Strong like Southern Winds, my passion flows,leaving behind

all the time spent trying to move your heart towards my empty arms.

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Green and lustful Spring that comes, covering my feet with petals.

Nightingales that sing, hiding in blossoming magnolia trees.

I touch your hand and stop the black domino from falling.

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So wet my feet, my hands so wounded. My face so withered.

The piercing sun probing with ferocious burning rays, my straw hat.

Rice falls from my hands, like pearly dew drop tears. I fall with them.