Greetings in the heart
are like red wine.
I have no one to share with.
I drink my friends’ share myself.
Seeing their faces in the glass
makes me merry.

When I greet passersby with a wave,
they meet me with their heads down.

Those silent lips,
captured inside a picture frame,
in which they left their laughter behind.

Those melancholy eyes,
woken from a dark dream,
that buried their hope within.

The tree without roots is helpless against the wind.
The bird without its flock is lost.