On this very special eve
A familiar, comfortable, remotely throbbing feeling
Is letting myself melt into this place of Softly Sad.
Like songs written in the inadequate tonality
They never really take off.
Like an indulging heart beating from afar
The rhythms of a forgotten land.
The inner flowing of maturity tears
Leave in the lungs the aftertaste of oceans.
They share the same Nature
And they won’t meet in ages to come.
Franck Joseph
©FJ December 2019
All rights reserved.
Franck Joseph
