Rich

Sitting on a bench

For a time i cannot measure,

I taste those pauses

Of doing nothing

While enriching

My life.

Advertisements

Breaking

Your body whispers

A break is needed.

Reluctant and fearful

You move your body

while your mind conputes

and forecasts experimental results.

The coffee is warm

Yet fades quickly

In the run to a career.

Tired hands

Refill these hands

That worked hard and bled today

To add beauty and respect

To old clothes.

Hands not smooth and not shy

That travel quick through the stitches

And join the borders of a hot Sunday.

Give them water, a shake, and a rest

In your lap

Until fresh again.

After work

My arms are crossed
And my thoughts far away
When the bell rings.
The day is over
Or does it start?
I head home and fill the last hours
With tenderness and personality
Until the sleep comes
And my heart holds a list
With minute-long experiences and small memories.

Rain reason

I am grounded by the drops
Of this rain with no reason
And purpose.
It is regular, yet unexpected and comfortable
Like a familiar face
that left long time ago
And is now back to wake you up.

Lake Sunday

The crowd surrounds me
and the water splashed while I lay
Dried in the sun of a lazy Sunday.
The last glimpse of summer
condenses in drops on my skin
while the green landscape lingers.

Emergency holidays

Hours have been spent
Like nickels
On research projects with no taste
And the days passed like a single breath.
You don’t know how
But midsummer is here
And you are not prepared.
Time to take those emergency holidays.