April 1999

Once again it is spring, the season of love and sensation
The season of life and loss of reason
The time of year where we are reminded that everything,
moves in circles

Spring and easter symbolizes the new begining
In my life .. and in that of many others

Slow pulse of movement
Wite speed on royal blue
Burning warmth on cheek and shoulder
Singing wheels
Voices mutter, paper turned
Moving cocoon
Comfortably drowsy
Feeling the world turn
Me to you

Fresh grass
In sparkling breeze
Black lace draws pattern
On deepblue sky
Sunlight bathes
Browngold branches
In shimmering silver
As the new spring is born
Into the world

So strange
Reality only touches
As little painless, tickling
Needlepricks
Like a slow dripping spout
Filling of the bucket
Of realisation
That the moment
That holds you
Finally
Is closing in

Southbound
Into spring
Driving through march
Bound
For you

Now what is this?
Why is there so much smile in the eyes?
Why is every body moving
like dancing to inaudible music?
Why do i feel my heart
doing the chacha in my chest?

The street is like mezmerized and magic
The concrete allmost alive
wintercold soul thawing
and blooming with smiles
The shopping forgotten
to take time and lean against
a sunwarm wall
to take time to sit on a bench
by the water
to take time and enjoy the sweet sin
of the first icecream

and spring
wanders through
the citystreets
>in her sun-yellow silkdress

When I grow old
you will find me on the bench
that has the best view
over the sea and the city
and the sunset.

When I grow old
I will sit there
and let life pass by me
and feel its pulse.

When I grow old
I will be sitting on my bench
and share candy
and apples
with the children
that play in the grass

When I grow old
I will visit the tavernas
after sunset
with the others that are like me
and drink sweet wine
and share memories

And when I grow old
people will know love
and the light that reaches
beyond the sunset
and the loneliness

And now the evening has come
the sun has drowned herself
in glowing water

I sit on the beach
on a stone
polished smooth by millenums
of water and sand

and watch how
sea and sky become one
at the horisont

Beyond it
someone else sits on a stone
to watch the sun rise
and see how sea and sky are parting
at the horisont

the full moon is reflected
in black waves
eternity is
circles in circles

He wanted you to shine
like the sun that falls
through the window
on the poets desk
warming his hands

He wanted you to shimmer
like a little song
a perfect melody

It is not how you shine
that matters
but what makes it happen