The warmth of the sun carried the wind in my hair,
Always dishevelled.
Always dreaming.
Pastel colored painted ladies,
Naked neighbour,
Dancing in the street.
Because you are a fragment.
A piece of something I once knew,
A rogue radiowave,
A piece of someone I once drew;
A dust particle on a gypsy suitcase;
A storm from another time that’s never been forgotten.