Poetry

Irena
PROFILE About me Friends (39) Poetry (31) Diary (1)


1 may 2013

Questions

Tell me,
how did we forget to see
the beautifull things?
Such as the firebugs
on a warm july evening?
When did we last run
among the bushes to hunt them,
while they sleep on the calm grass
that rests from the light night breeze?
When did you last caught one for me?
When did we last stop
to smell the red tulips,
that we place every spring on the table,
in a vase
They slowly turn to the window,
stealing light from the sun
Since when have we stopped
next to them
to watch their waking in the morning
and falling asleep at night
Tell me
Tell me,
when did we last
lay under the trees in the yard
Among the grass
To watch the clouds,
as they travel across the blue skies
over the day,
or the stars at night,
As they stand peacefully on the
black cloth,spread across the sky
Quietly,like soldiers that watch the land,
in the absense of the Sun.
Like guards that watch upon us,
while the night passes
Since when did you not gave me a star?

And the firebugs rest upon the
quiet grass every summer
Still.
The tulips stand upon the table every spring
and they hug eachother,
in the small vase,
like hidden lovers that curve gently
around eachother,
fearing that someone might separate them.
The clouds travel still
across the blue sky,every day
The stars lay still every night on the cloth
spread across the night-sky and watch over us
The stars peacefully guard us,every night.
And we still pass next to eachother,
silently like trains,
through the coridors and labyrinths
that we built for us,
and we didn't even know that we could.
And yet,we never remembered
to build a small station to stop in
and lay our burden to rest.
You and I,
we still look at the clock on the wall
every day,countlessly
and yet,we never notice
the time passing by.
We sharpen our pencils,
and the pieces of paper stand blank
in the drawers
Constantly...
We empty the ashtrays,filled with butts
and we don't even count how many times
did we kiss them,
instead of eachother.
The coffee is always cold
on the table.
From waiting.
From silence.
That is why I ask of you
When did we forget to see
the small things?
The important things....the days of our lives
that count.




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