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Goodbye, My Love
The sun filters through
The leaves of the Tree,
Under which I take shelter.
The Light rests on
My head, a warmth that
I can no longer feel.
The Wind that usually
Loves to tease my hair
Is no longer present.
Even if it appeared,
I would be unable
To feel its breath.
And in this idyll picture,
I wonder if I ever
Cross your mind, or
If you go on
Your merry way
To places far and near
Without a care or thought
For all the people
And things that you
Left far behind.

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