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.
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