 The night was young
Yet silence reigned Nothing stirred the air The wind had stopped The moon was high The air smelt of gingerbread The tabby sensed He was alone Majestic, did he walk He jumped up And climbed the tree Then, on a branch, he perched From there,, stately did he look around The world is his to command
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 Just a hint in the air, a swift breeze Branches pregnant with mimosas Clouds coming and going The sky always changing, never the same Young girls in flimsy dresses Chilled to the marrow Trotting by the side of the road Laughing boldly Speaking with large gestures Young men braving the crisp in the air In shorts and sleeveless shirts Pushing one another around Talking loud ignoring the crowd A squirrel hopping around Like a lunatic energized by the breeze Looking for the best branch to nest on Sunrays filter through the dust in the distance And two sparrows are playing in the sand by the park  Hot scents and puffy clouds People milling around Lethargy lurking Steps strolling aimlessly Smells of tree flowers Mingling with the hot-dogs on the grill Laughter coming from a shaded alley And you, eternally you, Watching intently the groups passing by Willing to belong But drawing away Indecision marking you And you remain aside Observing and being observed  Freezing outside Getting warm inside Blizzards on the other side of the window Whistling winds through bare branches Fire in the hearth and inside you Cinnamon smell And hot tea on the desk Two worlds apart However entangled together 
Does it matter what they think? No one can read your mind And see the depth of your thoughts The hurt of your heart Or the tingles of your skin. Does it matter what they say? Words cannot touch When you erect fences And ban everyone outside Keeping yourself apart and untouchable. |
Roxana NastaseJust dabbling in writing poems ArchivesCategories
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