I wake up in the morning
invaded by sweet memories,
the smell of springtime,
first plucked cherries and strawberries...
I wake up with the birds
and while they are singing
I listen to the echo of my own turmoil,
a green oasis,
I am walking lost between a path long ago overgrown,
white lilacs,
well know lullabies at the end of the day,
my growing up girlish fantasies,
forgotten hatreds and stupid acts of forgiveness,
a boy with marbles,
a blackberry bush, a starry sky
and warm summer dust on my feet,
trains waiting at the wrong platforms,
wrong addresses on the right wagons,
always the same faces
of those ladies, beggars and ramblers
sitting on the folded unread news
while sharing their meal with the Zagreb birds.
Stale water from the Fountain of Wish,
lights from the fashion saloons,
somebody’s foot imprint imprisoned in the heat of asphalt,
silence from Gric while night, like a thief,
crawls between the Cathedral’s bells tolls at midnight
and without knocking penetrates through locked doors.
...and now we are seizing life
inside entwined fingers
and between our two warm palms.
Author notes
...when memories flies like fireflies...
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"imprint imprisoned in the heat of asphalt" - this was quite nice and creative. Also the smell of springtime, being both cherry (virginal and fresh) as well as strawberries (sweet and juicy). Those both stood out a lot for me. I didn't get the reference to Gric but overall, I enjoyed this. Good luck in the contest.
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This was stellar- complex, creative, and written very well. Best of luck in the contest that you entered.
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Loved the metaphor of fireflies you've applied here. Yes, our memories are as green and as bright as the small lights of fireflies. A very lovely poem filled with the most wonderful and imaginative images... I so loved this one. I know about how memories and fireflies too...precious and beautiful.
~ Nicolette
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