I am alone
in my sun-slept room,
The lizard on the wall is listless
waiting in ominous gloom.
The window pane sways
in the gentle breeze,
the stifled breath in me
looks for a new lease.
Ages have gone since you left
the wall paint falls in flakes,
your photo on the wall askance
still clings on for my sake.
I see the riotous creepers
climbing in abandon,
On the decrepit walls
Through evening and morn.
Often when I hear
your voice to goad me on,
I step out of my trance
to look you up anon.
Its only the rustle
among the astute maples.
Do you still confide
of your yester travails.
I still search erratically
for the elusive key
to the door that will open
and lead you to me.
The night will also pass
riding on the cricket's song.
The daylight will revolt
in agony forlorn.
The strange odyssey
of such life and death,
often fanned by illusions
either to rise or rest.
