Time - the alchemist – turning my heart to stone.
Seldom do you pick up the phone.
Sitting here, without you, all alone.
Throughout the hours, my spirit prone,
seeing not, what is reality ?,
that state, which is left to me,
residing in, left to be
nothing more, then what I see.
Life, colours have departed.
Left the gaggle of roses I started
leaving with you three years ago,
with love and hope, you I’d deeply know
B. J. “A” 2
December 27th, 2012