I wonder who I’ll be the other side of May?
June, July, August and past September
While old things are to pass
For a while I engaged in ideas
Allowed my dreams to take me to him
The day’s they pass and precious words hardly seek me at all now
Static, left again to look at life from behind the curtain
Me, playing peek a boo with the light that shone for a while
Solitude, an old friend
Familiar, so familiar that it is easy to fit in again and blend
I dare not stare and the light for too long, as want hangs in the air
Who’ll be I? The other side of May
After ten years passing by
The french lavender sits beneath the cheery tree, and I wonder
Where will my gaze take my daydreaming mind?
What thoughts may come – the other side of May?