teresa-a-cardona
Cuban
I will hunt for an abandoned life, and I will bleed ink and become phrases. When I dream, I dream in freshly printed pages and faded dog-eared novels. I will live my life in the pencil sketches, I have drawn of this world. I will believe in the inks of my beliefs. Some call me weak for not accepting what they call reality. But I will proclaim this is my reality!
A special world for you and me
A special bond one cannot see
It wraps us up in its cocoon
And holds us fiercely in its womb.
Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
Gently nestling us to the fold
Like silken thread it holds us fast
Bonds like this are meant to last.
And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:50 AM UTC
Summer is gone and winter has set it, along with the frigid breeze. The air crisp and clear, making it easier to think. The gusts of air strike my face like pins and needles. As I walk the leaves fold and crumble under my feet leaving small traces of where I have set foot. The sun covered by white clouds magnifying the brightness and intensity of the light. The light, as I look at its reflection in the left over snow, seems to pierce my eyes directly to the corneas. The snow slowly melting from the storm, leaves small gusts of cool breeze my my ankles that leave me cool and refreshed.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC