Minimalist Portraits - 4. 4: Peace

Peace

A few brown leaves here and there,

Benches provided to sit and

Charm that little snake in the air

With empty talk as the twine

Of the incense streams downwards

Few people cry, smiling faces and

Tenderness forgotten and emblazoned

Into the wind

In previous visits when the body

And its freshness had not decayed so much

Children ask questions to the air

Above the stones of people they did not know

Old women sometimes visit to chat with

Pictures fading in the rain while watching

The joss sticks ticking down like hourglasses

And the smoke clearing,

They smile more than the younger ones

And all is peace.