Wall Shelf in Morocco
Somewhere in Morocco, when I
Was young, I found my past.
Hiding behind arches and nooks,
Hiding from curious eyes.
The history of a tale long gone,
But not passed. A story about us,
A story with no time. In Morocco,
I saw you, standing by.
A wall shelf, holding by a nail,
Like our youth.
We too, standing in a wall shelf,
So young, so alive.
In Morocco, before the future
Came rushing by, I saw you.
Standing by a wall shelf,
In the dying night.
A wall shelf holds from a nail,
And holds our story. And we
Walk forward, silent, under
The Moroccan sky.