Platform HIV – Haider M. Catan

At a train station,

I saw a lady

laid down

white sheets

crowded flowers.

She’s lost between

messy colours

empty space,

waiting for her train.

Silent cry,

something

between her arms,

a tiny bird!

She thinks

Who’d lend me time?

To gather flowers’ tears

in a perfume bottle!

Who’d lend me a few days?

to learn violin,

to thank the rain

in different ways?

Her own bird

replied, I.

She hugged, kissed

it.

The train was waiting.

The girl,

platform HIV,

she stood there

busy,

rearranging,

combing

her dream’s hair.