Small is the point I see behind the screen
The rasp voice covers the room
I touch with my fragile fingers,
The empty space I feel in my own home
I write poems but no rhymes
The old radio plays its tracks
My notebook covered with some crumbs
From the last meal I cooked with love
Counting the days and all the time
I am feeling happy but so sad
What’s all this feelings?
I always ask, with no answer at last
All the landscape
That’s my mind
Covered in thoughts dry and bright
I am always looking back
I see once again
There’s no glass but there is life
Maybe I am looking but not getting a feel
It is time to see…through the window that’s my heart and part of mind
By: Lizzy