Monday, August 20, 2012

...and put them on


Standing in front of the mirror, it gives me a look
a sad look- of something curious; two eyes that need some hands
Those wandering eyes never blink,
they say they are out of breath, like a dried fountain

No oxygen, no water, no smile
no help, no whisper, no spectacles;
By seconds, her eyes feel nothing but sweet
Sweet memories of bitter tragedies
that would never ever be forgotten

When songs are no longer sung
at the dawn of mother lion-
those eyes of her can pretend all happiness for life
for good; lies and all lies
that pressures feel good; so the heart is packed

Her eyes then feel sorry
of everything after them
of lives that should have been better
of words that could have been muttered
of pains that would have been released

And as there is no rainbow behind the snow flakes,
the eyes keep wandering-
of sorrow and exaggeration of those it loves.


--Amelia Winnie
JKT, August 2012


xxx


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