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,