Frantic days, harsh cold air, hazy horizons
Merged with evanescent lands, they stood still as memories do
The scream of seagulls the only voices running against the wind
They chased as if it was a game in an odd day
The morning was still young and the hours to come a promise for the day
I kept walking along the border, my eyes chasing the horizon, my mind closed to the world and filled with thoughts.
I swear I saw you turning for a while, I swear I saw you smiling
Your eyes talking the language I know so well
A whiff of wind and you vainshed away
As a ghost in the frozen land of my heart.
Stories and novels, stories and shades of words. Sapphire can be a voice, a whisper, a night talk. Colours in words, words merged and melted with pictures. Words as colours, words as shapes sometimes overlapping with the visual experience. A different way to see the world or, maybe, just the very same way using different tools and finding different paths.