The woman inside shroud in which you hide
what is your hair like under there
the dark robe
conceals mysterious eyes and a hidden smile
or perhaps a dark sadness that lingers
across the silk and foreign fibers
locked in a mystery
the mystery of a woman
so familiar to me
we share the feminine blood and heart
while we walk like zephyrs
blown across sidewalks in different paths
invisible to one another
do you hold your secret like a stone
or is it truly your treasure
which you conceal
for the world is a thief
is this your belief?
Can you hide from the hurt inside the dark cloth?
Is it a cloud across your sunshine
or a cross to bear
that shroud that you wear?