Touched Once

I remember that pretty little boy He asked me, ”Which country are you from?” A very difficult question to try the answer, indeed. I could not tell that I forgot, Yet, I was looking for a synonym. Truth comes In many intertwined words, Tears in parallel lives. I saw an artist once, burdened with sorrow. He Asked me, ”Does this mean anything to you, at all?” A very serious afterthought For life under a twilight sky. I could not answer as I do not know. Perhaps the other side of beauty lies In tears of passion, touched once, still left behind.