Misery

Наталья Кашкан
She sat upon the iron rails
In the light of a healing sun
I softly kissed her dusty toes
And whispered a name of one

I slip the sandals from her feet
With gentle touch of fingertips
Then like a soft summer rain
I taste her tears upon my lips

I stop to ask about her tears
She only stands and walks away
Following empty iron rails
To the distant edge of the day.