Down the memory lane
in this land of strangers
there are dangers
there are sorrows
But mostly, there is kindness, there is hope, there is a flash of reconciliation that I was not always a bad person.
I was once unafraid and naive, a dreamer seeking a soul, eager to know the world and beyond.
And some people remind me of that. In the midst of danger and sorrow, there are memories stored in some shoebox, ready to see the light for a brief moment in time.
Waking up
On some remote island. For once you are sleepy, and the light entering the room is faint and smoky.
I contemplate you for a lingering moment, stretch my arms, look at how naked we were. You have a leg sticking out, i can see the contour of your shoulders, have a urge to kiss you, but refrain. It is your birthday after all.
So, time to go fetch breakfast, flowers, a unique gift you have been craving for, a magazine to lightly read and enjoy the sun, the sea, me.
I feel energized. Making you happy make me thrive. You softly wake up as I enter the room, and sit by your side. "Good morning, my Love". You smile, that bright, wide, wondrous smile that princesses and queens envy. You reach my hand, pull me close, we kiss. A warm, deep, loving kiss. You tremble a bit, but I stop you. I want to feed you, with food and care, show you the gifts, the meal, ensure you know I thought of you.
You again smile, even more broadly, hug me with a grateful squeeze, but then get up, kiss me, and we playfully fall in the bed. You laugh, of joy, I can no longer resist, I never wanted to, and breakfast is delayed until further notice.
We spend the day swimming, walking hand in hand, napping, reading, making Love.
Happy dreamy birthday.
Countless
Hours, days, months, years, just to muster the courage to be polite.
Long due.
And yet, shivering from being rebuked, and rightly hammered for daring to do so.
Le Rouge et le Blanc
places come, places go, precision fades in time, space and memory.
Yet something undoubtedly lingers. Unequivocally.
and, yet, I find, I know. 17 of June. The oldest memory I can precise. It was a Wednesday. I searched after for grip heart for some reason. There had to be a reason.
10 years, I thought it might have been earlier.
La vie n'est pas en rose
C'est noir et blanc. Je suis dans le noir, dans le absence de lumiére.
Tu est dans le blanc - la Vie avec tous les colours, ensemble, couvrant tout le spectrum. C'est ça, la Paix.
Post Tenebras Lux. J'ai du croyez, au lieu, je suis au coeur du peur, perdu, loin.
Rain
A concert. Your gentle quietness. Your smile. Your sudden squeeze of hand.
Happiness.
I have a head with wings.