Museum Of Stuffed Souls

by: Iolanda Scripca

I sank my fragile being in delights of dew

Waltz on cheeks of people, through mosaic of eyes

I also whispered HIM, when He tried to rain

My secret bits of wishes... returning to the fields

I dove into abyss so to revive with grace

and let my deer absorb me surviving drought of soul

But Keeper of The Cage allows me only be

A maze of salty traces on lifeless eyes of beads...

(written as a teenager)