Midday

(Picture Source: http://inkpathsconverging.tumblr.com/post/157309959202/lisbon-every-back-street-worth-a-sketch-by-r#notes)

Midday melancholy
The gentle breeze curls around my earlobe
Following a pattern
Like the waves on the shore
The scent of honey and the diversity of flowers overpower my senses
With every step I am careful to listen
Listen

History was written in this alleyway
A woman walked to her death with the same number of
Footsteps
Men were sacrificed in their endeavour to sacrifice
Freedom

A child looked out of the window
To the mosaic of houses
Bricks and debris which once formed a
Home

Love was spread in that doorstep
There
In midnight, in hiding

Children, aged eight sat on those steps
Played games to pass the time
Until midday

Midday
The brink of maroon
The solitude of tiredness
The subtle irony of
Loneliness
Togetherness

Nothingness

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