The Golden Hour

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The Golden Hour – brainwork

And then there would come a day
when, on the golden sand,
been kissed every other second
by the salty water,
Our fingers twined in each others’,
beneath the soft crystal-like granules,
The orange blush of the goodbye sun
dripping on the edges of your honey skin
and jet black hair,
Our feet, partially drenched into the wet sand,
the gloss on your lips glistening mildly,
as it’s gentle curve hides behind the
golden brown hair strand, busy in performing an elite salsa
back and forth in smooth swings.
Those sea-full of brown eyes resting their shyness on some
nonexistent point, somewhere between the horizon
and your half-visible feet,
That dome-shaped silver earrings
swinging dramatically slow – giving a quick-witted response
to the eastern cold breeze.

That would be the day,
when I would, confidently, grip your hand
with a firm clench,
attend your eyes with a trust as heartening as it was
during our first conversation.
And ask you to look at the everyday, never-ending
romance between the sun and the horizon,
hold your crested chin,
turn your face towards mine, and,
before the eastern winds dare to interrupt,
pull you so close that your heaving breath
would be clearly audible,
and, in that rapid turn of events,
hold up your left hand,
and notice the extent of  surprise and happiness
in your watery eyes,
as they witness the glistening edges of the silver ring
I pushed into your finger to make you mine – Forever.

 

– HP
from brainwork

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Free Bird

free bird image on crumbled paper

One moment you think
the world is in your hands,
and you want to grab it
in your fist
never to let go!
Then at other moment
you realise
She is a free bird
not to be controlled
not to be caught.
Just to be followed
and find happiness
under her free wings.
But you still want her
You still love her.

You want to be the one
To find that happiness
Under her wings.
To take a shelter under them.
You want to be the one,
To encourage and to support her,
To caress her splendid body,
And her omniscient soul
made of strong imagination
and firm decisions.

Oh! how, how you want
to contemplate
her every flight
that makes you feel
like she’s going away
going forever.
Yet you feel
like a tree,
who waits
until her next arrival,
and the next after that
Patiently.

Spending time
remembering,
her soothing voice
which has ripples
like the water has
when thrown a pebble,
and those songs
about love,
about life,
that music,
that rhythm.
That silence in her voice
beautiful than the starry night.

Like the branches
of a tree
that dance with the wind,
Your heart dances
on her voice-tone
even if its
just on your phone.

How astonishing
how small is this world,
Packed in that
little parabolic
curve on her face.

Yet
that world
doesn’t fit
in your fist.
It simply won’t.
For it’s not to be grabbed,
It’s to be hold
Tenderly.

She doesn’t need
a controlling fist.
Or a grabbing palm.
All she needs,
is a supporting hand.
To fill more enthusiasm,
more confidence
in her free wings.

She is bird
not to be controlled
not to be caught.
Yet, somehow,
You simply won’t stop
loving her,
following her.

You want to be the one.
You want to be her one.
So simple is the fact,
yet so twirled.
Without her,
there is no other world!

#Brainwork