Today I saw you
Hidden behind the shadows of nostalgic memories
Triggered by the sudden smell of what seemed long lost
But that revives in moments hanging inert in plain air.
Today I felt you
Living still, in the self that gives me life,
Finding corners in my spirit, finding it hard to survive.
but impossible to fade, only morphing with the age.
Today I heard you
Inside the cheery thoughts of hope, that once I felt
Making my head lay high, remembering your voice
A sound so strange, that I almost forgot.
Today I touched you
As I let you in once more, for just a second
And invited what’s left inside for a casual conversation,
of the usual forgotten topics, many times lost in translation.
It was the moment, a swing of air, a sudden echo
What I fear, made my mind turn in your direction
And just like that, I say farewell to this memento.
Bringing back life, in slow pace, second by second.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Monday, May 25, 2009
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Because I cared.
I walked the narrow paths of grassy fields
And often times, I would stop to observe
The story would be born in the centre of my brain
And the grass would be trees, and the dirt roads.
I could seat for hours, creating imaginary landscapes
Miniature worlds in which towns, cities, villages
And lonely homes would live
I would stop, and observe, because I cared.
I would create characters, and stories to live in,
I would use my head, stones, flowers, grass and weeds
As this world had to be perfect, and it usually was
When a story was born, it was alive for months.
I walked the stoned roads of my street
They were oceans, and the blocks of houses, islands
My friends lived there, and sometimes they didn’t
I would stop, and get inspired, and suddenly, I cared.
Hours would fly by, one by one, as I would see
And play, and imagine, and create
An imaginary world that would exist and be alive
Just and simply because I cared.
And just like that, the world around me changed
I was the stone, or the grass, and I was being observed
I lived the fantasy so many times, that one day
and there was no more to care for, I had changed.
SDIH (2./27/2008)
And often times, I would stop to observe
The story would be born in the centre of my brain
And the grass would be trees, and the dirt roads.
I could seat for hours, creating imaginary landscapes
Miniature worlds in which towns, cities, villages
And lonely homes would live
I would stop, and observe, because I cared.
I would create characters, and stories to live in,
I would use my head, stones, flowers, grass and weeds
As this world had to be perfect, and it usually was
When a story was born, it was alive for months.
I walked the stoned roads of my street
They were oceans, and the blocks of houses, islands
My friends lived there, and sometimes they didn’t
I would stop, and get inspired, and suddenly, I cared.
Hours would fly by, one by one, as I would see
And play, and imagine, and create
An imaginary world that would exist and be alive
Just and simply because I cared.
And just like that, the world around me changed
I was the stone, or the grass, and I was being observed
I lived the fantasy so many times, that one day
and there was no more to care for, I had changed.
SDIH (2./27/2008)
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