no medicine like blues

by Claudia ✓
Unblemished, I let my smile roving
on the alley of the metaphors.

Metaphors which, once, peopled
one's shadow full of sensations.

Sensations tamed and boosted
with an implausible profile pic.

Pic with the parts of its aspects
lost in nothingness or joyfulness.

Joyfulness with moving feelings,
and thoughts wondering… why's‽

Why is late yet early, and why is
far yet closely, on poets' boulevard.

Boulevard accompanied by craves,
gesticulating longingly, the passion.

Passion of the nomad me and others,
fermenting loves on metaphors' alley.

Alley with paths to light and dreams,
like a switch at the call of the love. 

Love moaning,  — (let only music cry),
(there is no medicine like the blues).


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