Sometimes walking the same paths does not mean reaching the same place...

My spirit slides

For some days

In a garden of Loire

Where past,

Present and future

Cross the same maze.

 

I run through a castle

Looking for a child

With angel eyes

And cupid arrows

Who has felt a rustle.

 

You and I walk the same stairs,

In the same time,

With the same steps,

From different angles…

And we’ve never met. 

 

I run through a garden

Where tenderness and drama meet.

I feel your steps under my feet

 And that becomes a burden.

 

My soul is the owner

Of a private castle.

Its fretful limits

Are part of my design.

 

You and I cross the same maze:

Your steps came closer

For some days…

We cannot meet,

We’ll never meet…


Submitted: August 28, 2013

© Copyright 2022 Adela dAviano. All rights reserved.

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artie1947

this is a very meaty poem, it has bite to it.liked it very much.

Wed, August 28th, 2013 5:47pm

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