Every windswept verandah was your own,
The tokens of Mesopotamia still rest within your pocket,
You’ve indulged often in the taste of Dandelion wine,
Inaudible music has filled your eyes, wondering,
Where that Band was actually playing,
You were allowed to travel further than the others,
Feeling soft rains fall upon you, not at a distance,
But within your home.
You watched me live and die, you knew my deepest
plot lines, and if this is being echoed,
it is because you are seeing it right now,
in one form or another.
Photo taken by aflorin8, cheers.