PRISONER OF TIME 2 © 2008

On the window of life, words,

Made of drops of pure feeling,

Slide gently, like tears held,

Painting verses in a secure poem.

Each drop that trickles, slow and cold,

Is a story that time has written,

And as it slides down my empty face,

It reveals emotions that the heart has hidden.

The poem of time unfolds,

In the transparency of the window,

Where each word, in its essence,

Reflects what the soul goes through.

The words, like silent rain,

Wet the face, touch the soul,

And on the precious window of life,

They write memories with calm.

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