Perhaps you are thinking of me. Perhaps you are humming the tune we loved so much. Perhaps the wind is whispering to you that you should let your hair down, and make the sunshine disappear behind the darkness of your hair.
A million ways of wondering, perhaps this, and perhaps that, and each time I look down and tell myself, “she was a mirage!”
We don’t get to choose our journeys,
sometimes we think we do
sometimes perhaps we do chose
to travel on roads that are not clearly marked
and we trudge on them, without maps
that are useless in the outskirts of dwellings
where humanity and life disappears
through time and chance,
and we stand at the end of the circle,
looking everywhere, looking and listening,
to some forgotten tune, some elusive thoughts,
carried on the wind,
perhaps she really was a mirage!
ZSA_MD February 2016.