An old dusty guitar in your trash yard
Once lived on your lap yard

Hardly wished to be owned once again
Since you replaced him with J-45

Rusty half broken strings may ever tune again
Old charismatic tune which held your feel

Your lovely fingers tugged his strings… once again
Your magnetic touch recalled an old familiar lyric
Blossomed with salty rains, blessed by your melodies

Don’t allow yourself to play with his soul dear,
if you can’t control his harmony
if you can't quell his memory

Let’s not dear…
If you are not his jingle
If you are not his miracle

What if YOU are?

Break him once;
Let’s not crack him twice

An old dusty guitar in your trash yard
Once lived on your lap yard

cement as cold as
leaving everything you liked
stuck-in-winter ice

I remember her
All strong
Mighty, as she should be
As she was told to be
Her father cried the night before she entered here
“messed up world”, they depict
But her heart was ready
Together with the child waiting in her womb.
She was strong
she was staring outside the window for too long
her mind was there
trying to process how life treated her
she sang through the silence
filling content in her conscience
she was happy
She went there
That long path, not fully grown
But she got back on her own.
”are you ready?”
She always is
and there, a touch on her back
the warmest touch in existence
she looked,
and there, stood a man
with eyes looking at her like the sun,
she knew she was lost in those eyes
with a contagious smile
she knew she had to remember,
he held her with the promise of forever
she knew he’s the one

she was ready,
and the red-colored carpet was as ready for her to take.