She writes as if there's not much time
She writes as if there’s
not much time.
She writes to pain,
to happiness,
She writes to every remote
detailed thought.
She writes to the departed,
to the extant,
to poverty,
to wealth.
She writes to mourn, and grief.
She writes to the wind,
the rain,
forest, the desert,
and mountains.
She writes to her pouring tears,
to her grateful moments,
She writes because really
what she has is time.
She has no little ones to feed,
or bathe,
nor a husband to make happy.
To write is
to escape- to her.
Time is not a problem, time
is just a killing system,
she needs to kill in many words.
She writes as if there’s
not much time.
Copyright©ElenaToledo2009
<3
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