Limoniad

She was there

Came slow as wind blows

A whistle from nowhere

A gold of thousand silver arrows

Amidst of a single frame perfection

Everytime she walked,

colours path blossom on the gound

Lean to the right, lean to the left

image diambil dari google

Their thousand eyes and mouths joined cheerfully  

Humming, singing together

Roots to the leaves, leaves to the wind, wind to the clouds, clouds to the rain, rain to the ground

Her hair flowing free

Brown and curly

Her skin some of perfect marble cut

Smell as hazelnut

She called a flower

One led to another

‘I got red, keep fire on your bed

I got blue, as mistycal morning dew

I got yellow, when it shines as a halo

I got white, one for day and night’

‘I  am’, she spoke, ‘Limoniad,

Missed me from the Dryad

Let my hair tangled of all roots

Let my fingers catch wind hoots

I lay on the meadow

Follow my true shadow

Open your eyes and see me,

Fly as a little bee

I live on the trees

On branches and all small berries

Feel me, for every new leaf 

For anything you believe.’

My hands,

They were cold to deadly pale

She touched it

Skin to skin

Green veining to another

They warmed then

But tasted different

It taste of coconut sweets

Taste of 6:00 in the morning shower

Taste of muds and freely laughter   

Taste of Sunday morning drizzle

Taste of red, blue, purple, green, yellow and other

Taste of missing.

‘What say you?’ she asked,

‘I  see childhood’

October 15, 2011