fingers graze the violet whisps as
the fire slowly burns out from above.
brilliance was thought to never be.
dreams could never be so perfect.

unlock the feeling of youth,
of the potential of the future.
calling out to the most inner self,
find it.

rays of gold unveil the truth
light becomes dark and yet

somehow,

hope prevails.
dark becomes light once more.

A picture hanging on the wall, a desk and two black curtains
falling down to the floor;
The full moon hides behind rainbow clouds,
stories of that yesterdays' sun
written
metal sounds
and two drops of heavy dew.

... Sighs ...

I was circling your thoughts,
they were mine
to wonder about
and make them shine
all the way
through the spirals of our times.

... wishful sighs ...

A picture hanging on the wall, a flower on the desk,
two black curtains falling down
and up the full moon staring...
An almost hidden by rainbow clouds
love for that yesterdays' sun...

The two drops of heavy dew
are reflecting into the floor.

© All rights Reserved Theodora Oniceanu

Can you hear a falling leaf?
As it twirls and dances in the wind
On its slow descent.
Turning, moving, swaying.
Does it sound like tinkling music?

The water that awaited the end of its crescendo
pushes out in perfect spherical ripples.
Underneath the bright orange leaf
That sings the end of its journey
Destination reached.
Sweet relief.

And now it floats
along the slowly moving river.
Can you hear the water moving?
It’s as clear as the ethereal beings
That haunt us through our lives.
Smooth rocks and pebbles underneath
Paint a canvas of perfect calmness.
Greys and browns and whites.

Branches from the trees that used
To hold that darling leaf lean over.
As if trying to touch fingertips to the river
To test the water’s temperature
So as not to make their child uncomfortable.

And as you look toward the distance
You can just barely make out
That sweet, wonderful leaf…
With its tinkling music…
Fall over the waterfall.

Can you hear the leaf now?

there are few of us at the beach
some look at the sky and seem happy
others keep evanescent things under their arm
such as the turtle they caught at dawn
but as it gets dark
we become so sad
not even light can get to us
not even the photographer
who keeps ciphering out in a notebook
and moving us around
to make room for
Death in the picture

as a picture of me in your mind