Stepping in the icy air,
This Christmas hours my face
And wakes the memories
Of a whole year
Up.
A mosaic of feelings
and events to drop in silence
Lay behind the steps made
for the future.
Fries ode
Tent and steaming,
Golden like the sun,
Fries condense joy of life and child-like behaviours.
Fingers are sticky,
oily stains on my dress,
And a bunch of fries
Like wedding bouquet
in my hands.
Inner shouting
The difficulty of looking inside
Is unimaginable
Yet necessary and necessary of training.
My inner voice head to shout
For me to listen
And no volume switch is in sight.
My ear is gentle and too respectful
Of those voices outside
That talk loud over that whisper.
Surprise not
Climbing the steep road of learning
Feels like a donkeys head
is pushing me from the back
While my feet refuse to start.
No escape is found
And only patience and breathing
Give me the time to give the situation
a chance to surprise me.
Not easy it is to surprise me
Unfortunately
And I regret having lost
That quick smile and those glittering eyes
I had as child.
