VH ( / )


I said to myself
'Look how much you wrote...'
To that book of life
In twenty something pages.

Wasn't long before, however,
The times;
I wished them un-written.
And start all over.

I was lost for sure
When everything felt like yesterday
In such an abscence.
That made me blind.

Still time was the witness,
And songs were ready,
To turn those pages
Into bitter-sweet memory.

Then I met hope,
Healing my denial,
And wounds,
Of the inexorable fate.

Suddenly I realised
Wind had become a friend.
For it turned the pages...
And started an end.

by Victoria Hardy

Other poems of HARDY (40)

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