As I go up on this coach
Taking me to the highest village
I see the woods
Smell the pines...
The heat
Warns there could be a fire...
Now, those valleys and beautiful
Rebuilt old houses.
I see myself
Making tea in one of those
It’s ours
Our garden is the wild around
You are trying to paint
This landscape
In the abstract
I observe you
You kiss me I love you
And I feel
The happiest woman on Earth
Will this ever come true?
I’m getting old
And so are you.
© Dulce
12 comments:
wonderful. hope your dream comes true soon.
But dreams have no age limit.
oh, yes! Me too. I saw those fires in Portugal and Spain every year, every year! So much beauty, lost, burned to ashes. So sad!
Age has nothing to do with love, my dear, nor with passion. believe me this.
older by the minute -- second. Wiser? It's a tug of war. :)
Sue
What a lovely invite. yes, those damn sands of time. ~~rick
may this dream come true for you...
Well... my friends-in answer to your comments:
Thoughts,
this dreAm lasts for twenty years- But I'll hopefully keep waiting...
DrJohn,
That's for sure: dreams have no age but coming true... gets late.
Sylvia,
Dear, that's only part of the story, although it's true it's vital nothing burns...
Dear Steve,
I am glad you say that. Again it gives me more hope
Sue,
You've taught me a new expression today TUG OF WAR. Thank you!. Yes, it's like day and night, sad, and happy. My life is a tug of war, constantly changing....
Rik,
That's the idea !
THANK YOU ALL!
Thank you Shadow,
(your comment came a bit later)
Oh my, oh my....you really painted a picture, a beautiful picture, with your words!!
Age has nothing to do with a dream becoming a reality! Time moves on, but the dreams remain.
Love this Dulce!! Great job.
a beautiful love poem,
smiles,
Sweet Dulce, I am making my way through your August posts, because I didn't know of you, then! You have labeled this one "boredom", but there is nothing at all boring about your writing or the subjects you choose.
While love knows no age, I suppose, when one is alone and hungry for another's touch and attention, time can seem the enemy. In any case, every one of your poems speak to me.
PS--I love the Baudelaire poem on the left sidebar!
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