How many corridor views
I could imagine and see
How many ways and stations,
And turns in shadows
In a distant highways,
I walked on a dusty roads,
Where many steps in black
And white I could follow,
But I choose myself, flying
In my tiny ballerina shows "
Just dancing in the air of hope,
Without to find the real you…
How many roads with flat and
Shining pavement of stones
I walked " to see unique crowds
Dressed in elegant fashion coats,
In grey, red and beige "
But I just turned away to the bridge
Just to follow myself, in my so
Old fashioned childish tutu dress.
without to find the real me...
How many forest paths, covered
With mud and thorns and rose hips
I had to view, to search,
But roaming in myself,
In my only body, my own legs,
My own arms, my own breasts,
My own face, my own eyes
I finally found you "
Your unique self "
Waving to me from
The other shore…
- nour -
June-013
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