Silent Rust
Coming back home – wounded, skinless
Slowly sliding through ghosts of trees
With hums of Balalaika in his candid eyes
And withered leaves – caresses of the wizards
He squeezed through Life’s Fall like a chick
With wings torn apart by ether
With flights of smiles of cranes
And dreams of Freedom – ephemeral
If I could see him among the scattered leaves
Was just because he taught me to be silent
Be one with memories of bronze
And long for Spring through frozen hopes…
For Carolyn's Contest
Copyright © Iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2011
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