Your voice, soft and tender like
a spring's breeze, comes out of nowhere
to soon disappear. The memories, sweet and cruel, cut the thread of past and future
until there is no me. My eyes are echoing a past life and a
future possibility.
My heart trembling like the movement
of a newborn bird. So fragile, like it barely exists,
this sentiment is seeking
to be born again,
to come to life,
but the clouds still cover the sun and sky.
Forgive me.
Alexandra Sotiropoulou