Crumpled papers scattered on the wooden floor
The silhouette displayed on the wooden wall
Feather-inked pen and cool breeze coming from the door
The bamboo trees as they sway together as the leaves fall
A scent of nostalgia replaying in my dreams
To whom are these memories ?
A thousands moments from a black and white world painted throught the candle's beam
I have witnessed a set of familiar sceneries
The fragrance of poetry as I lean on a pen
It writes the hidden voice my tongue has failed to express
Who is poetry ? How did it know my name ?
The familiar scent of a room filled with poetries made by distress
The pain of the poet's memories became my wonderful-misery
I wonder what happened to the poet behind this painful memory.
NINIAMARIA
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