TREES POLES HOUSES

Passengers look at the road.

They look at trees, poles, houses, cars ...

I look at the road,

The way it becomes thought,

It becomes an idea

It becomes a dream

It becomes a storm.

It becomes a worry.

It's between hope and despair.

It becomes starvation and smells like onion in the mouth.

*

The road looks at me,

So do houses, vehicles, trees and poles.

I become hope and I become a beginning again.

Then I'd be love,

I'm in love,

I am alive.

*

They walk away, I walk away.

The momentum between us increases,

The road becomes now two paths.

Emel Kiliç