You have haunted the garden of my thoughts, unaware of the endless conversations
You have haunted the garden of my thoughts, unaware of the endless conversations,
About sea butterflies and flights mingled with white, forgetful snows.
I wove you into the celestial tapestries, you were my astral laboratory of dreams,
A solar vagabond returning from a dark night to caress the dawn once more.
In profound silence, I have tried to paint you on the stretched canvas of serenity,
With tones of fantasy, in my heart, the sanctuary of your barely visible halo.
And how often, wrapped in murmurs, you fell like a star into my open palms,
Bestowing upon me, from your astral trials, a warm and ephemeral embrace.
I called out to you, ah, secretly, in dreams whisper by whisper, to return from where you departed,
To rebirth hope in my far-off seasons, to rewrite the stories of the fallen leaves.
Among remnants of long-set autumns, you were the invitation to my new springs,
To give life to my wanderings among ruins, to drape your promising tomorrows over an ashen yesterday.
Yet you never knew, I never let the words swim freely towards your shore,
How sharp was the needle of longing that stitched my days with its invisible and heavy thread.
The sea tear filled the inner seas, reaching dry shores, salted by sighs,
Loaded with that innocent suffering that dissipated within, unseen by your eyes.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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