A floating island in my dream.
Ten thousand miles or more –
I walked to see you.
The neighbourhood has changed.
Barbed wire, neon lights and
drunken men singing songs
from the old days.
Litter the streets.
I cannot see your face.
Only the memories hold the dream.
Accepting that I will
not see you again.
I hold your hand tight
until peacetime comes.
And the drunken men
finally go back home.