Dellymari's Blog

The morning arrives late,

and evening, early.

All of the in-between-time – 

Countless efforts, vision and space,

blurred. 

The maintenance of –

Hope…

To carry her, delicately,

(fragments to a solution),

loses me—

A windmill.

A viola.

A song in the wind.

Only the sea and a one-eyed-gull

to understand.

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved