A Witness, Recycled!

 

One saw, said, commended, condemned,

Who was once, isn’t now, wouldn’t be, maybe;

A witness testified its life & of others,

Yet couldn’t realized a day, why turned into anyone,

The Rhythm

 

The nightingale’s presence feel gleeful,

when felt,

Not in sorrows, or wherein crows

be sought to feed;

So as when the night's loved or

day's caressed, in wandering,

The Skin & The Stone

 

For thousand years eroded

what the flow,

Or broken, in pieces thousand

times;

The skin, one day, on eve, touched in awe,

Felt if thousand years were spent

in lies.