The quiet is heavy
I do not knowThe art of writingOr of touchingAnother’s soul
There’s always a time when
Mirror, mirror on the wall, what is the heaviest weight of all?
Like tapestry,A fabric, woven in time,Wraps me with warmthWhen I have you in mind.
Far far away...In a winter landHe stood there, Alone, in the vast of nihilityholding stiff his last leaves.
this, I don’t know if I can call it a poem, is inspired, again, by Tasneem Kagalwalla’s poem:
The music drove Antonia crazy. Every Saturday just after lunch time came the faint tinkle of a piano from somewhere in her apartment…