Poet: E.Ergin

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it is the wasted youth I am mourning

maybe not wasted but passed

buried along the love I once possessed

footsteps echoing and I twice checked

the road before I ran away from her

if I just looked behind

I would have seen 17-year-old me

mocking my running

but I just saw 27-year-old me

on the horizon she awaited

her eyes were sparkling

she was as calm as a new moon sea

she had a pretty girl in her arm

she was standing as if she had planted love

and she was the one collecting it

the sight teared me up

the fight in me settled down

half moon, the road is clear

piano melodies in the car, she is near

I am crying but she is now 37 and proud

I mourn everything but she is out and loud

wishing I had the guts but the horizon

is now disappearing yet I am not forgiven

still I know, she loves me and cries for me

breaks the loose ends patiently for me

she awaits beside her, eyeing me lovingly

I avoid my gaze, because she is so sunny

radiant as the sun, gleamy as the moon

could I be the warmth in that bag’s maroon?