On the sunny grass,
I refuse to count the minutes
And abandon myself into the light
And into this book with potential.
In a cone of rays,
Life seems logical
And nature an expected component,
Fast from the arrogant asphalt
My story is apparent
On the skin of my willing hands
And on the edges of my smiling mouth.
I have written thousands of sentences,
Yet none is enough
The coin has flipped
And my mood with it.
A simple bet turns into an exercise
Of patience and self-awareness.
I cook, I clean,
I give my sweaty time away
And collect you.
I don’t remember the mornings
With the sun rising and the coffee brewing.
I start with thoughts of future
And a path of pitfalls
To elegantly avoid
And dress accordingly.
Now you can see me
And include me in your plans
Of succulent dinners and unreachable offices.
I will embrace your plan,
Obscure and personal,
Until we stand on a higher rock
And I will see what the horizon holds.
I will fall asleep like a cat today
At The repetitive sound
Your hand produces on the keyboard.
You are absorbed and isolated
Into the virtual world
Of the blue light
Of data and algorithms
And my efforts are childish
When passion is addiction.
You are looking somewhere different
In the picture where all are proud.
Tired of belonging to the crowd,
You found your focus,
Far and not so well defined.
With Each step you take
it becomes sharper and maybe closer,
The instinct never lies
And lime a radar spots the dangers
Even when hidden under the surface.
Listen and draw the map
To avoid the traps
Like a champion of alpine slalom.
Few days are left
To tell the story of the little protein
That from an egg ended up in the pharmacy
And into my throat.
Small miracle of evolution, I admire you
And love you
For your stubbornness and generosity.
Carrots dance on the window sill
Watching my spaghetti getting dressed
For the party.
I touch and feel
The richness and roughness of the pasta
That brings sun into my home.
Add a stroke of pink to your writings
And a curl to your Ts and your Is
When the window is closed
and no escape can be found.
The head down on the white paper
Can imagine a world of fun and flowers
Even In a grey cubicle.
Rushing to the train
Is an art on its own
That only with intelligence you can master.
Quick and instinctive my steps
used to accelerate behind the illusion
Of being the first.
I was crashed and let alone on the track.
I learnt too appreciate each step
That with consciousness I stamp on the ground
And can guide myself faster to the station.
Boredom sweats from this book
That fills my commuting
For a free days more.
Choose your readings accordingly,
Dig into the time machine.
The arrival home
Is a proper for the intense day
As the boiling stew expects
a smile and a daily achievement.
The day closes sweet and homey
After hours in the artificial world
That takes your breath away.
Up and down the candy goes
Sitting lazy on my belly
And looking at me
While breathing heavily.
I see you, I dare you,
I hear with my eyes
When my abs stretch and push it away.
I pour my will into small annoying actions
That like a mosaic assemble my days
and write line by line my story.
It is difficult to read from here
The final labyrinth they form.
One click is one situation
I wish to remember and store.
Digital data take on the value
Of vibrant feelings and dear persons
Condensed in a limited second.
No more foggy memories and personal additions
To the story.
Like a blinded moth
I spin around in the middle air
Turning turning with no way to stop.
The excitement captured me
And I live the moment
With its silly giggles and ambitious prospects
For the future.
Waterproof and windproof I sail out
Feeling a fearless warrior and sneaky cat
in my soft belly.
An army of characters and attitudes
Populate me and take shifts
To go through this Monday
And to make it glittery and eye-catching
Like that romantic movie
On the big screen.
The answer to your shaking
Sits patiently hidden
at the bottom of those drawers
Or in the farther of the thoughts.
You have attended all tasks in sight for today
But cannot sit still and breathe.
Running in the wheel and digging
The missing piece emerges
With what has to be done
To feel worthy and complete for today.
I caress my petals in the sun
And embrace the astonishing landscape
Of water and mountains
Dotted with white fluffy sheep
With short memory.
I turn and stare absorbing the energy
And keep it within.
The thrill is on
After I actively pushed myself
To imagine a future
With its roots on the happenings of today.
Each day possibilities form in the space around me
And i only have to train my patience
As a gardener in September.
I mix my dreams with my loved ones
And try to paint a picture of harmony.
Work and life,
Food and acceptance,
Love and ambition,
Balance and moving forward
Delimit my way.
I am grounded by the drops
Of this rain with no reason
It is regular, yet unexpected and comfortable
Like a familiar face
that left long time ago
And is now back to wake you up.
It has a warm price
The recognition of your work by a friend.
Work talks stay at work
And the focus is down to that stained bench
That stores your weapons and your solutions.
Living happy proceeds through only two lessons
Like take of a mountain train.
Try not to Don’t scare your friends
With deep talks on kinetics
And how your birth marked the anthropocene.
Learn to improvise in critical situations
As if you are on stage receiving an Oscar
Everyday leads me on a treasure hunt
With hints hidden below a coffee cup
And inside an orange.
I zigzag absent-minded while other proceed
Bloody on their metallic rigid tracks.
Resting at last, with my constellation
of secret places And my hands full
A small post-it can hardly contain
The emotions you transmit
With your disappointed eyes
And needy body.
I will write you a sentence
And it will give only a direction
for the future, as the present is nothing
Proud and waiting for its start,
I take my credit card and promise
To embark on this new journey.
A group of strangers
Are brought together by language
coming from far
but already coming closer.
The Black hole is approaching,
Sucking me in with its energy
Of criticism and judgement.
I builds my personal joke
To laugh inside while I agree
To your pointing fingers.
No Black on me but only radiating music.
In this day of treasure hunts and inquisitive looks,
I move slowly asking the people of the lab.
Envy and demands appeared together
But my persona is well defined
And the borders guarded.
Short but sneaky, the human fence
Cannot be fooled.
Our stories are lonely,
But also very common to other women.
A voice too low to be heard,
A dress too plain to be noticed
Am and opinion not in search of approval
Pace the months and this novel
I am alone writing.