• I look at her sitting in her chair.
    A Half-opend window.
    The view wondering through two glass slides.
    Her silver hair refuses the moons rays as to create an elongated halo that lays on her head.
    I hum quietly.
    She folds her hands on her knees following the elegance of the song.
    Her eyes close just a quick movement of her eyebrows in the rush of memories.
    She sometimes reahes out and touchs her face...
    to recall how years of time have felt a trail on her.
    The song disapears...as she breathe- and her breath turns to vapor...
    no, she isnt cold.
    Her body is there but her thoughts; her thoughts are far of in another place.
    The soft wind touchs her cheek but she does not feel.
    And she lets go; memories hugging her.