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This picture here, now half buried
Corrupted color, soiled but a treasure
In this moment I wonder about a stranger
Dead or alive? I don’t even know that much
Could have been thrown away in drunken rage by a failed lover
Or thrown out of a wallet, stolen by a pick pocket in a rush.
Stolen by the wind perhaps to parade wonder
Or in teary lack of courage to tear it
An image of a happier times, with one departed
Is this that one whose rumors I chanced?
That one who had an affair
Or that one now in jail
Or that one who killed a girl
Is this that one now in a wheel chair
That one bewitched
That one who had become rich
Is this the picture then
Used to bewitch them?
1 comment:
I like it. ~Brent from FB
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