I wrote my poem and flew it through the wind.An outcast picked it up and recited my longing
for you easing his homesickness
My loneliness was beauty. Even the moon cried
hearing the lucid poignancy of yearning,
lovers embraced each other, warmed their hearts
in the midst of cold tears shed from the sky
My precious solitude was now heavier with hope,
but the same rain faded your address on the map.
My poem lost track of the road signs to reach you:
words ended up filthy in big city ditches!
13-18 January 2011
© Era Fiyantiningrum
