Northern soul

You probably don’t go back to that day. You may not even remember it. But I do.

The day I saw you, even though I thought I would never see you again. The day my heart froze for half a second.

Since that time I cannot stop thinking about you. I cannot stop thinking about all those mistakes that led me to a shore where I grasp for air, where I try to blink the tears away.

My soul longs for you. Although I don’t know where you are, I hope to meet you some day at the other side of the ocean. There everything blooms.

Afar

When I look at the sky at night, and the stars are shining bright, I think about you because we first met when the night was deep and cold. The town lights on the other side of the river gave us hope and the warmth we’d seeked.

But we could only watch it from afar for we’d been expelled from the place with cracked paths surrounding the trees whose leaves had been singing for us every morning.

Now you’re not by my side and there is nobody to hold my hand. I’m scared I might forget you so I picture your face in my mind and then I feel your presence beside me. I feel the warmth you give me in that cold night whose stars are out of my reach.

Withered

Autumn is coming. The hawthorn fruits have appeared already. I pick them up, thinking of you. Handful. It’s all I have.

Do you know what they smell like? After all these years they smell like nothing.

After all these years of walking towards a house in the middle of the woods, where so many unexpected things happened, so many intense emotions emerged, where so many painful events took place, it still feels like nothing.

I think, I’ll just wait for the hawthorn to wither.

Will I ever get there?

walks and talks

Believe me or not, but sometimes I speak to people that are not there. To people that my heart longs for, and who are far away. Whose faces fade away in memories that seem like dreams you never really had.

I wish they heard my thoughts back then when we were together. I wish they hear my thoughts right now when our minds are trying to find each other in the clouds.

Traffic lights. They lead me towards you, while I walk the walks you promised me. All alone, I’ve been captured in the town background, waiting for my shadow to follow me.

I wonder where you are

A few days ago I went to town to ship a parcel. While I was heading to the post office a man, passing me by, smiled at me. His smile was so familiar that my heart skipped a bit because I thought it was you. I looked over my shoulder, like last time, even though I knew it couldn’t have been you.

Since that time I’ve been wondering where you are.

It’s September the 5th. Almost a year ago I saw you for the last time. I remember that quite well. When I met you, unexpectedly, in that classroom. When you smiled at me. When the cold ruthless wall separated us. I’m sorry I did nothing, even though I still don’t know if you wanted me to do anything at all.

Wherever you are, I hope you make your dreams come true.

Wherever you are, must know that… I fell for you that spring when we talked.

three weeks, three words, three looks

‘you flow and flow’

Dear Reader,

I got lucky to travel a little more, since I haven’t been back to work full time yet.

These are usually one day trips to places where I can contemplate my life in peace :). That involves a lot of walking tracks by a river and in beautiful dark woods.

Actually, it is perfect timing for travelling as I am collecting poems for my fourth (and last one in this series) book of poems and I decided that nature will be one of the chapters. I’m sure you know that nature has healing properties, so there it is… I might be able to hit the reset button after all.

In case you were wondering, the third volume is almost complete and I plan on publishing it this autumn (!). Wish me luck!

you flow and flow

This picture was taken during one of my walks last week, while the title is a line from a poem I wrote back then.

I hope you hear the river flowing.

Love you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting my writing.

© W. Donovan