It didn't take more than seconds.
And when she passed by me, I had the flashback...
I couldn't breath.
I thought I saw you...a ghost from the past,
and the delusion felt so real.
And it came to me that I had no picture for you..
Not even a sketch.
I thought I'll paint you a portrait..
But, what shall I paint you with?
While Fouad used india ink
I wasn't sure what to use.
What will get a glimpse of your eyes the best?
Shall I paint you with the roses you love..
with the early morning sun light..?
or shall I paint you with beirut's first rain in september?
a thread from the black dress I last saw you in?
Meanwhile, you'll stay a ghost....a memory,
and a poem.