Scenery from my door
begs in high quality accents,
fingering my appetite
to take off alluring senses
and fling them regretlessly
against hungry skies.
The talent of flaring ideas
sparks my body into movement,
where he imprinted a banner.
His ardent care only lasted
through the cries of my childbirth,
and he wanted to move away
from maternal demands,
finding shelter in less threatening
atmospheres.
A part of my being broke off,
digging greater holes of self-pity
as long as he disowned family.
All I stare at is railways of love,
flames and tracks devouring open space
until I am picked up ferally by a zephyr.
He is the core of my observation;
I wander among road dentures and
the nicest particles in such air flock,
who slip me away from weeds.
