untitled

Your life must have tasted so bitter,
always harking back to a childhood and a land
that were left behind when the adult years
presented themselves with their irrational demands.

Water, music, Nature and seasons.
Wretched sailor banished from his small kingdom.

Your letters came bitterer everytime,
god only knows how you must have tossed
and turned in your foreign beds at night.
It pities me so.

And finally die out there.
Far from the consolation you'd have desired.