nove pjesme

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms
There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls its children from the piles of fallen leaves
There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children until she let's them go at last
And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds
There are things we can't recall, Blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
But my hands remember hers, rolling around the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned
There are names across the sea, only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the window closed, she'll sit and think of me
But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be aloneo scared to be alone































She says, "Wake up, it's no use pretending"
I'll keep stealing, breathing her
Birds are leaving over autumn's ending
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes around the yard
She says, "If I leave before you, darling
Don't you waste me in the ground"
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes around the yard










































Bonus:



Da rezimiram, kaj se sve dogodilo:

proletio je i eksplodirao meteorit
došao je koronavirus
dešavanja sa prodajom stana se uskuhavaju
obustavljaju posao i školu
online škola se uspostavlja, ludo i nezaboravno
Zubobolja na kvadrat
razmišljanje o zubnoj hitnoj
potres
namoljena lokalna zubarica na pomoć
zapao je snijeg
posao od doma, ludo i šašavo
prodaja se i dalje odmotava svojim tokom
sad kad je popustio strah od potresa
objesno ne znam bih li kavu, sok od aronije, vino, kolača, keksa, ništa od toga.....
upravo: skuhala čaj od stolisnika
izvadila gitaru, da se podsjetim kak to ide,
printam pdf knjige Bringers of the Dawn
stvari stoje pripremljene uz vrata, ako opet uzdrma,
ne znam koji bih od bezbroj zanimljivih videa gledala,
i koju od knjiga da uzmem u ruku....dan nema dovoljno sati.
Mislim da bih ovako mogla zauvijek,
ja ne trebam ljude
I am a rock, I am an island :)))