staring into the sun
nothing to hold on to
listening to underground songs
then, now long forgotten

my closed eyes I hold up high
to fold them back into me
underground stories, my songs
cordially crisp they’ve gotten

Time’s elusions are framed
and hung all over my soul
subversive bells ring ballads
around my empty fingers ten.

But the reflection
Seen in the bus’s windows is
Such a

the true self of me
is sunspots in the dark
is humming wonderful tunes
is reading words of great
I had with people
who left, and did leave
a long Time ago

(c) Marco G. Casteleijn. 2014


2 thoughts on “Illusions

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