Droplets

Rain pearls  sliding down the glass

like sweet tears  at the funeral of happiness.

A few drps of water on the face of life 

wont change the meaning of  words ,

apologizing for what they no longer remember,

sending each other bouquet of metallic  flowers

to decorate the marble of decorum ...

I'm just this old poet who think he has talent

and only runs after the wind ...

On his agenda ,oblivious to the season's rendez vous .

I question the muses who answer me with pretty liars...

Solitude invites itself like in a Breughel's  unfinished sky .

White hairs have no compassion for dead leaves 

slowly dying in a final pirouette ,who say ''I'm waiting for you ! ''

These droplets caressing the cold of sad hours

arouse in me a strange nostalgia,that makes you want to leave...

           I loved you .