Scorcher time…

It is a scorcher waiting time…
Under the shadow of your name
I count the grains of sand
That stealthily escapes throw my fingers …
That without smoothing out your face can do nothing…
And my spirit without asking me, got up and went to you,
Far way, at the other side of the shore
The fevers of your silence to deprive
That until I will know if you are fine…
Without waiting for turning my spirit back
Maybe you will…
Find me at my lonely room
Switched off…
Or Dead.

Vasil Marku
New York October 2011
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poem by Vasil Marku
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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