I wish to live away from commonplace lies
that move quietly by well-lit corridors,
creating a final echo each summer in the streets.
Allow me to live in my romantic thoughts
at times when as virgin lass
you’d look into my eyes for hope.
Please do not talk to me about lies.
And be with me…
My second in the violent streets
to hear that echo;
where all of my words
are broken records
of a distant past that’s seasoned
and weathered like a yellow rose
losing its petals to the light breeze.
Yes, I have matured
steadfastly and in no doubt
clinging upon the single stem
that held me tight all these years…