There is heaviness in my heart,
a lump in my throat,
Tears rush to the drooping eyelids,
A child is scared when I look…
Neither the gentleness of the breeze,
nor the songs of the sleepy birds,
brighten my spirits and lift my mood.
Depression threatens and engulfs.
I see the breeze trying in vain,
to ruffle her wet hair,
She is dreaming, lost in a world.
Lost to the onlooker – faraway in a fantastic world.
Her lips flutter like the wings of a
weak bird trying to fly high.
Her face glows when she smiles.
Beauty envelops and lifts the dying spirits.