Pulled down like root,
secret, twisting, I neglect
the city's splendour-
sleepy cafes, gleaming
streets, young girls leaning
out cotton-curtain balconies
to watch the urchins play
below with stolen fruit. Did it rain
today? I would not know
or care to know; these eyes
sunk down inside their heart.
If I were guest, this riverbed
would greet me, now it's body
barely moving, shuts me out.
The light it needs, the whirling
skylarks often feeding from
its tangled banks are missing;
what is missing walks with me.
