The Shore and the Pony

On the shore, someone is sitting.

It seems they have waited too long for someone who does not come.

The body has hardened like stone, and the heart, faded by the wind, has become dry grass.

Only the horse passing nearby and the boat far off know that waiting.

The color of dried grass is not a color of nature.

It is the color a life, worn out by waiting, has left within time.