Gone

You let go of my hand
I lost you like loose sand
I carry heavy memories
that stick my feet to the ground
You let go of my mind
no thoughts are mine but yours
I remember you looking over your shoulder
Now I am so much older
You let go of my heart
nobody could catch it
I guess a million pieces
nobody to glue it
You let go of me
and I await the after life
A small consolation
is a consolation.
We will be loved again.

Instrumentale.

I play your skin with my fingers
like the cords of a violin.
Your sighs are the music I compose.
Pianisimo, my love.
My concerto is easy to write on pages of inspiration
and with a bit of antisipation,
I trow a glance in your direction.
You curve your body to the shape of my violin
waiting for the encore
and I enter your heart through every pore.
My pen writes now all the notes on a line
and my melody is written on the paper of eternal rhyme.
I love my instrument and the sounds of her heart.

Winter secret.

Take me and blow me away.
I am a leaf in the wind on a journey
and at the mercy of the wind.
When I fell from the branch
I left home but not without a purpose.
I need to protect the roots from the cold.
Winter will be hard, so I was told.
Let me tell you a secret while we talk anyway.
When winter is soft we get to be blown far away,
when winter is hard as close as possible to the stam we stay.

Finally some time to write

Dear friends,

I finished all the big works in our house and little by little I feel the urge to write again.
I have some very inspirational music waiting for me and I hope you will start reading "my stuff" again.
Happy to be back.