Across the table cold water and fresh bread

He was hungry but had no appetite for her foul mood

She stood by the window breathing fire

She wanted to scorch his heart and make him suffer

He sat in the shade, broken and lifeless these days

Long after his dreams disappeared into a kaleidoscope

His memory of colors kept him alive on an empty soul

She watched him from the corner of her eye

His lips knew the sound of her name and his hands ached for her

Too old to care that he was dying he was already dead

Fragile threads of reality dangled across his face

He felt as if he was reaching too far

Prayers and incense could not save him now

It was too late to contemplate any kind of forgiveness

She had fled in a desperate mood on Thursday morning

He drank water from the fountain in the square

He leaned against the warm stones and felt at home

Comforted by the nature of his surroundings

Her voice was calling him home again