And when he's tired
he sat down on the grass
feel the Earth
closed his eyes
and breathe out the dust
that stuffed his lungs.
He looked up at the sky
blue as ever
and then at the trees
barks brown like his eyes.
Amber fills his orbits
when the sunlight collides towards it.
I see him there,
still and beautiful.
I watched him breathe
by the lake of the forest
far from the busy pedestrians.
I hid all day
behind the blocks of trees
only watching and memorising
the way the creations ate him up
but he looks alive more than ever.
He was like me:
tired and still
crazy but free.
YOU ARE READING
OLD FILMS IN POETRIES
PoesiaIt's a film in poetry─A little lively,a little sad,a little death,a little pleasure,a little desire and wishes,a little rest and a little nurturing.
