An old woman Walking barefoot Through the streets Did she loose her shoes? Was she forgetful? Or did she simply want to feel Her feet touching The ground below her? Ready to feel the stones On her way Ready to feel the soft Grass beneath her feet As she walks through the park
I remove my shoes to join her adventure I walk home barefoot Tracing her footsteps
The old tree knows my secret The old man on the bench knows it What is my secret then? If I put it into words I would loose it To know it You would have to listen Really listen Like when you listened to a great story in the youth of your childhood Or when you discovered something new You cannot know my secret without excitement and curiosity maybe maybe you already know
Come come and sit beside me Come and share your stories your deepest secrets let me into your secret garden where the seeds to your greatness spring Lead me through your field of sorrow and then let me enter the valley of joy Let me climb in your tree of wisdom and then let me swim in your river of desire To me This is true joy
Inspired by the great poets of the past I am trying to capture the small fragments of life through my poetry. This is a quite difficult task.
Remember that life cannot be remembered, it has to be lived.