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  • WILL I FIND A FRIEND? (To Frederic from Ilana)
    He walks quickly toward the forest…
    He refuses to run–his days are fast fading…
    He walks, walk            
    Walks into blood-red sunset setting… 
    A Van-Gogh vision racing toward he moon, 
    Over a starry night –
    Wild hallucinations in the lovely 
    Star-shot night…
    He walks slowly now –
    Will I find a friend? 
    Will I find a friend?
    His eyes pierce through
    Foliage grown thicker 
    In shadows of night.
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