II.

At times, as I look into the mirror
I see you in my own eyes.
Just a sparkle, that has never been there before.

Yet at times, as I look into the mirror
I see nothing but emptiness
grown a bit greater again.

At times, as I walk beneath the wind-blown clouds
I feel the endlessness you so readily saw in me.
But at times, as I catch my reflection in a window,
I realise I’m invisible once more.

At times I hear your accent in my words,
taste faraway places in my morning tea

– then I revert to drinking coffee
as colours pale, snow falls, and stories fade.

Posted in Scripta, Stories in English and tagged .

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