Forgotten Thought Is a Lost Pen
Fabric of Love
Dear Friend, We've Been Living Too Fast
* * *
Forgotten thought is a lost pen,
Though nobody will find it and write
In the light of a lonely candle when
A lazy moon travels through the night.
Forgotten music is the first snow
That easily melts hardly touching the ground,
And only the wind still reluctant to blow
Cuddles soft snowflakes dancing around.
Forgotten love is the precaurious Fall,
Painted in shades of faded brown,
A song of the Neverland hard to recall,
A Queen of gold in a rusty crown.
I don't wanna stay
In this tricky game
When the stage is aflame
But the actors play.
I would rather leave
By a midnight train
Smelling of champaigne
On the New Year's Eve.
I will wake up late
Where there's no trace
Of the play I hate
And that vicious place.
And my joy and my grief
Drawn by hoarfrost
On a palm-like leaf
That the autumn has lost
Will be swept away
By the winds of fate
But my soul will stay
FABRIC OF LOVE
It will slip through your fingers
Like a tender silk string,
Like a rainbow that mingles
On a butterfly wing.
Through a velvet sensation
Of an innocent kiss
It will reach destination
On a shoulder of peace.
It takes so long to cut the rope,
But if you do it, on your way
You may pick up fragments of hope
Dropped to the pavement of the day.
A jigsaw puzzle, crystal clear,
Reflecting your distorted face.
What kind of picture will appear
When the last piece fits in its place?
What kind of an unfriendly vision
Will break into your life en route?
One piece is lost and your decision
Is justifiably astute.
* * *
Dear friend, we've been living too fast
Many alien lives bypassing
To be crumpled and ruthlessly cast
Into street garbage cans all for nothing.
No trace. No sign. In the air
There's a flavour of burning letters.
There's so little left for to care,
So painfully little that matters.
Sparkling galaxy of falling snow
Melting silently in the air
Will remind us of a Christmas Show
And a nice friendly chat over Ballais.
Off we go. No need to be sorry
For the theories falling apart. . .
Sloppy lines in the end of a story
Unmistakably cited by heart.