September 14, 2020

 

Broken Afternoon

 
 
 

Broken Afternoon

Walking the roadways
of my youth,
they are ever curving,
and I get lost.
The broken afternoon
sun, without
sound, burns my eyes.

So much forgotten,
in this dream,
the gentle birds' muted
song, fills my head.
Already tired, I
walk no more,
my feet bleed.

Everything is distant
and so close.
Taking flight in this cursed
dream, I am
old in my dream. There is
no sound and
solitude fills my soul.

The bitter sun shines.
The sweet song
of birds has no sound.
This far from peaceful
dream scratches
my face. It is
only a sunburn.






Article © Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-07-27
Image(s) are public domain.


1 Reader Comments

Harris1
08/01/2020
10:14:19 AM

I can relate to this one. The last line is strange and makes me think. This could be an old man looking back, or a young man perceiving the future for a moment.

Add your own comments!
The Piker Press moderates all comments. The commenting policy can be found
here.
Name

Email

Comments


//