"So that the things I have loved will not turn into ashes, I have a hiding place where I keep them intact ....
It is a place that is between the dream and the eyelids, in the top part of the tears, at the time of the siesta."
Bubbling the aromas of coffee
Original Poetry
Memories of years without equal.
Experience to jump and enjoy.
Sitting quietly in my memory bank,
I ask you: what happened to those times?
Those, when you jumped out of bed to run to the stop,
Bubbling the aromas of coffee, only breakfast
of a morning full of work bites
in full sun, along with life.
Now, it feels twisted and torn.
The lips curve, the smiles just growl
and the days worn are dyed purple,
exposed to storm weather
already silent, small drops and wind strong .
Live every day in a monotony that torments.
Survive in forms of the mind,
nonsense that others spend with looks.
There must be something more than this.
I remember when it did not matter
give hugs at the feet of the clock
and frolic in the grass.
Now, just sleep,
because tomorrow is another day
and we can all go out and play,
resonating in boxes of fresh laughter.
Bubbling in real life,
where everyone a community
thanking for life.
July 13, 2018
The images are from Pixabay CC0 Creative Commons
1-Abstract art of gold bubbles
2-Commitment couple
3-Tree calm-tempest field
4-Sunset couple lake
The dividers are cut out images of Pixabay
1- Sunflowers
2-Thanks-scrabble
For accompanying me, reading me and always being there, simply...
Grateful with 
Also with 
Join the #steemschools
Discord here
