Thoughts and flowers from the lab
Cold texture of pure poetry
Falling romantic on the street,
you, snow of this troubled winter,
Warm up my heart.
Unexpected and desired,
You infused magic in a routine too calculated
And hands that only work,
And do not caress enough.
The warm hat looks ridiculous
On a heard of girls and many years.
Decision is taken
And other’s opinions don’t count
When winter hold me tight.
Comfortable inside,
My head is up.
The dark has come
Yet the day is not over.
The list of still long
And the appealing tasks
Are queuing for my attention.
I trust my watch
And keep on trying
While my brain wears its pyjama.
What tickles my mind
in this dark winter day?
Worries of career, fears of loneliness
This undetermined future of ours
Join forces and seed doubts.
I drop my anchor
In the small achievements in my wallet
And those tiny ideas shining in the dark.
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.
The set is sleeping
At the heart of the old flower
That afraid resists the
and the coming winter.
It breaks in my hands
Tired and dried
by the donation of its beauty.
In my mind, I wear slippers
all day long
while cruising the factory
and criticizing the dynamics of the office.
Slippers with fluff, slippers offering total protection
from those envious eyes and those inner critics
that only a warm tight hug can silence.
A few centimeters
Hide the naive seed of Chillies
In the soil of nature.
Sleeping and dreaming
Becomes conscious with the light
And cheerful with the warmth
Of the spring behind the corner.
