the winds come unannounced
with nothing but time in their pockets
as i watch the trees sway in this ancient belly dance
their bodies curve around the air
that fills the voices among them
as they tell and re-tell of occasions gone
reminiscing about a time
when kings and queens dined at their feet
lost in a past long gone
their sways become unanimous
the sweesh-swashing of their belly dance
stifling the melody escaping a nearby bistro
their stories have blossomed into tales
the repetitions now soothing to their scattered leaves
of riches passed
of lovers gone
of an almost dream
lost in this rhythmic dance
to the tunes of a century passed
they ignore the lands changing colors
and calling out their names
they do not hear the midnight goodbyes of
a moon slowly slipping away
and the earth tugging at their roots
gets no response
they sway to this music they no longer understand
belonging to a forest that no longer shelters the birds
lost between yesterdays gone and tomorrows not yet theirs
they ask all passers by for a light
to heal old wounds
whispering to the tunes of a century passed
the sweesh-swashing of their belly dance
has stifled the sounds of the lands changing colors
and calling out their names
of riches passed
of lovers gone
of an almost dream
(
enghelab=revolution)
