it was always some words
words i could have read
words i could have felt

but that was not the way
i was made to learn them
dissect them and explain them

sometimes it was as easy as a simile
but then those elusive metaphors
was always relieved to see repetitions
but then those disguised alliterations

why this line break
and why that punctuation
yes this can not happen
it’s a hyperbole my son

how could i have seen the imagery how could i have caught the rhythm you used to make me toil whole day just to keep me…

there is a road i have taken
a few bridges i have crossed
rivers i have swum through
jungles i have passed through

i have walked all through the day
haven’t packed any food for the way
i see a fire shimmering in the woods
there are a few gypsies with lots of food

they invite me to their fire and give me some food
there is a kid, somewhat around five winters old
i play with him, some lines and some crosses
sometimes it is some stones and some rolls

we play late into the night then lie down…

i have walked and walked
walked and walked alone
there’s never been a home
always been a rolling stone

those lanes and those streets
those plays and those freaks
that smile and those inviting lips
that armchair and that walking stick

i have always moved on
pain i never carried on
love i could not hold on
i have always moved on

i am not the tears in any eyes
nor the apple of anyone’s eyes

there’s never been a place
i have been bound to
maybe the grave is
not the place i travel to

i am the flow…

it’s a sea i am floating on
a sea with waters all around
there are a few islands i can see
and a few more that i can’t reach

a few islands i have been to
mountains and trees i have talked to
how they spend their lives in one place
unmoving and unimpressed by our pace

a few islands i have been to
streams and time i have talked to
how they create a path of their own
never a step backwards, never at home

a few islands i have been to flowers and kids i have talked to…