Memory lane

Every song here,

carries a section of,

time in the past,

every drop of rain,

hitting the window,

of the empty room,

of my heart,

gently opening the door,

of memory.

wandering,

in every section of memory,

perhaps its fate,

i met you in a crowd of strangers,

the best memories,

in the songs,

in the rain i’m,

counting the pasts,

that include you.

 

Little love

Little notes on the table,

i made them,
a little conch,

a little time,

little love,

a love pure as white paper,

the taste of an empty space,

wanting you to go on a date,

with me,

beautiful light music,

the carousel,

your lips covered in icecream,

you were happy,

little notes on the table,

lying quietly in a dream,

Clair de lune being played,

you were liking it,

orioles outside the window,

whispering,

little love.

The sea

Opening the window of June,

seashells of May,

still on the beach,

tides passing,

invisible sadness,

of the walkers,

tapping on the window of July,

the walls have been covered,

with June’s vines,

Candlelight

Street lights extinguished,

but your candlelight,

has been shining in the rain,

all longings,

entrusted to the pole outside the window,

sending you,

my deep love,

that shuttles between,

day and night,

the rain now,

it’s no longer tapping a rhythm,

the sound of it impacting the ground,

as my heart calling you,

knowing that on your plains,

there’s still tears and lightning,

i don’t want to hear you cry,

anymore,

that ghostly curse,

the truth of a real love,

there’s also torn pain,

in the silent sky,

rain retelling,

we shouldn’t care,

bumps in the road,

a road rinsed by rain,

frogs retelling,

by the candlelight,

blessings of the night,

the colored threads of yours and mine,

woven into a future,

into a golden autumn.

Little log cabin

Aside

The afternoon sun,

slightly smoked,

sneaking into the mysterious cabin,

floating dust half awakened,

listening to the discourse,

of the warm genial wind,

and the sound of clarinet,

green shadows,

heavy outside the window,

stacked layers,

interlacing,

turning into clouds,

joyous birds,

waving curtains,

inviting the wind,

broken light swimming,

people walking,

past the window,

a fine limpid period,

walking and flowing,

amidst the foliage,

a quiet poem,

poured onto the gloomy wall.

 

Door and window

The northern wind ringing outside the window,

opening eyes,

leaves falling from the window,

dropping in front,

near and still.
The door had been shut for a long time,

quietly,