Pockets in my heart

I see sewer branches

barely holding onto a trunk

Wind is silent

and air is cold.

No one weeps there

no one whispers

Voices are gone across the valley,

above misty hills

onward …..

distant places …..

Did you know

I was once there

in the spring of life ?

Running barefoot

next to lines of

ripe grape wines

Sketching imaginary worlds

on warm flat stones

Tasting green almonds

in midsummer times

The ghosts from the past

is a struggle to reclaim

Faces, places –

hard to recognize,

yet – they still live

in the secret pockets

of a tired heart

I see fractured branches

barely holding onto a tree of

living memories

And I am there

standing with you

Wind is silent

air is cold

And winter is approaching

(C)Copyright ,Dinka Bednjacic 2016