You stare out of the window,
the rain folds the world outside
in an impartial embrace.

When I look into your eyes
there is growing desert sand, of
memories that come and go
in ever-weakening waves.

I am chained to the past
we can no longer share.
In my eyes
the desert and the rain
fight for place.

Mother, help me!
Tell me, please, that moving on
is not a sin, it is no mistake.

Mother, may I
seek solace in forgetting?

Set me free Mother
before it is too late.


Saturday Centus, Carry On TuesdayTheme Thursday