With my head rested
against the shoulder
that sits between each breath
between each little heart beat

With my head rested
against the wind
that flows between
the inhales and exhales
of this little life

unpaved roads
where will we go
tumbling between brick and brick
latching on to a shoulder sack
filled to the brim with burden
in it we found places for memory
places for love and hope
places for fear and pain
and a big gaping hole
for the ever growing grief
that never seems to fall out
so we head to the lake
and to the sea
because the rocks we hold
are too big to try skipping
across puddles

Right at the seam of the blue lake
childhood runs through the sand
I, cautiously keep my feet on the rocks
leaving behind new footprints
laughing about what still makes us kids
leaning against the fallen tree trunks
that never abandon us to find our balance

I reach out, with both hands
and between *******
are worlds, and worlds, and worlds

if by chance, with this spring
we go on to bloom
with new cuts
and citrus slathered over my hands
I bask in the beautiful scent
and tremble with the pain
just as you once said
It’s how things go
when life hands over  
the lemons and tangerines
we, barely prepared  
still coming into new shoes

But funny enough
here we are
I guess we never asked
the tulips and roses
how much it actually hurt
to burst through a bud
and bloom

playing catch with conversations
passing our thoughts
on the taste of the sea
and the way things glisten
under the glow of hindsight
this rain, feels all too maroon
and the roads, like veins
carry forward the spring gloom
I dusted off my shoulders
Just for this today
so, we could sit in the presence
of silence, and a quiet peace
with the pattering of a gentle storm
in between each heartbeat
bouncing between words and worlds
throwing out into the wide open
how we feel about time
just as it passes us by

Last time when the dust turned blue
a new kind of rain erupted
like pellets bouncing off the ground
realizations poured over our heads
last time I laid flat on a road
and challenged the force of decisional wind
protesting the passage of time
swallowing images of mountain range
from the highest point in the city
last time I felt so dearly in love
with the color of the sky
with the way things go,
with the touch of new life
last time I got to know my own breathing
was when, just like this,
in seasonal change, fragments of old self
came to accompany on a journey
through a new day

Someone used to say
That spring begins and ends
Like a transient midday breeze

When the colour of the tulip fades
To an old pale yellow
You, grown out of your sorrow
Will stand ahead of the horizon
Ready to live, ready to breathe