PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

On my shoulder, her nicely shaped head was resting.

Tickling my cheek her rebel playful silky hair was.

Smoothly cruising in a rough reality.

"Things are fine . . . nothing's wrong . . . nothing's wrong",

her presence kept asserting.



I placed my trust on the tender moments and silky hair.

Not thinking that a doll searches for best offer

I slept so deep to have dreams of pinky color

And tranquil sense.



Getting cold and feeling lonely,

I Woke up very late and very slowly

On the scent of an old memory of silky moments tickling my mind

To discover the deep vacuum filling up my fleeing days,

To see the past as a short thought and what's coming as illusion

ending up so frightened, drowning deep in a mist.



For such moments,I, desperately, search from the east to the west.

On the shoulders of my mind, the whole world worries rest

Realizing, in small doses, that golden moments occur only once.

I keep on running as a fugitive, breaking away from his fears.