On blossomed branches,
Hummingbirds rest in the scented shade.
The soil is moist beneath my feet;
What an odd place to find myself –
No recollection of my treading here.
Though it is a time for mourning, neither cries, nor tears to proclaim.
A traveler has much ground to cover, and many regrets to misplace.
I should have stayed with my first certainty:
With no expectations, I would have been spared –
As mountain-tops squander their flawless spring waters,
Lovers ignore the passing of Time.
And with my end so near, I could have shared some truths;
Had it not been for my forgetfulness, to save me from my youth;
But I have always found comfort in soaring above the clouds.
© Maria Fokas/ March 4, 2016/All Rights Reserved