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Will you come?
Although it’s no waiting any more, the blades of sea grass still tickle between the fingers while I wag to the beat of the clock.

Will you come?
The grains of send left in the old sandals still pinch my feet as I walk.

Will you come?
All imaginary pictures that I keep in my wallet already faded and the letters that once I tattooed on your soul seem to dissapeared.

Will you come?
A feathery pillow already turned into the stone but I still desperately try to dream again and again.

Will you ever come?

***

September sun
tucked in the empty sky
oil on canvas

***

Linked to Carpe Diem #1043 emptiness

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