Maybe, maybe not...

When all is a fairy tale you stop dreaming of life !

To swallow your writing is like a soul without life in it .

I'm scared to show my feelings-thinking,

To shy of my own poetry .

I still wonder of the day when the heart 

will take back it's own breath in the galaxy of stars ! 

Did my heart stop somewhere to feel the love ? 

Show to myself the frozen felt of a late and warm winter ! 

May the glimpses of happiness walk to me for the first time ? 

Or will remain only for some like a sun-kissed ?

God, maybe I can't believe the miracle ?! 

- A. A. Popovici,

The poem within me .

The look of memory returns to us like a warm crying ~softly .
The loving of the ones you truly miss is like a breath of the last dance .
They only remain in your soul like a mirror in time .
The passion of art it is in you like a sound of cello .
The whisper it sounds like a melody that only you can hear it .
The family that you left it, behind you~ they still yelling on you in your heart that they are with you, alone .
The history is just the past that you forgot it within time .
The pain it is there with you in a lonely place, waiting for you .
The tears are the diamonds you drop down in the dust~
it will soon come like a blink of an eye .
The disappear of your memory will let you all in loneliness which is like your own shadow .
The future it isn't there anymore and the worry of life is always there for me~
beside me as the last joy of a dream .
My last poem will be without words in it, only my feelings will die within me .




                                      - A. A. Popovici,