Waiting for the cheerful summer,
I knelt at the rim of sorrow,
With a mystic scent of wonder,
Hugging tight plans for tomorrow.
Praying, hoping, thinking, sensing
Magic scents out of desire.
Colours fierce like blood are setting,
Through my chest, the sacred fire.
I shall care the love you gave me
‘Till no summers will be dancing
Memories blinking tears’ quay
From a sea of the fate’s glancing.
I shall dare the pain of sunsets
Twisting sadness to fresh dawns
Ruling out the rustling regrets
Shrouded in biases’ lawns.
I shall hold your thorny branches
Wildly piercing my soft palms.
Witnessing how rosy patches
Are renaming my new balm.
I shall keep the fire burning
Deeply carving in my heart,
‘Till the summers will be washing
All the fears, somewhere apart.
In meantime I shall keep writing
Mathematics of the love,
Where intuitive is dressing
Calculations from above.
Where a one adding another
Is totalling as a one.
While the two minus the other
Is equalling just a none.
SEPTEMBER 2021 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Born in a communism regime, Simona put education and hope at the peak. She is a mother of two, who encourages her sons to dream beyond the limits and to act accordingly with passion. Through her work, Simona is trying to bring love and humanity.