It's like I'm a poet drinking loneliness on a winter's day
They say the seasons have a language. Just as pearls are lined up on a string. It is laid out one after the other in the seasons. To speak: To speak the name alone, to grapple with people like a sailboat. Seeking people who understand and speak the language of the seasons. Lifting the mourning of the blankets on the ground There is a child in the seasons: His name is winter, he is delicate, his face is beautiful, his words are beautiful, if you come back, it will be very sad. He lifts his head and takes a look. Inside burns you, outside me. But without him, the world is incomplete. Loneliness seems to have been inherited from her lover.
Is it loneliness
When it burns your heart
Is it his not burning
Is it really loneliness without it?
They always say
To love or to be loved
my answer is clear
Love
You can never fully know your presence in that heart
But it has already invaded yours
It's hard to accept at first
You can't handle this situation
Longitudinal denial
However
You leave yourself in a void
You understand how you were conquered
Then neither denial nor denial nor acceptance
no one can save you
You love blindly
with everything
only if you really love
You don't expect a response from him.
you just love yourself
From afar, without knowing you
What speaks, what does your tongue keep silent
But your left side never stops
When she's happy with someone else
you will be happy too
The world is divided into summer and winter. A majesty in winter, a stillness. Like scales, one of its wings is heavy while the other is light. He talks to a lover when he is calm. His lover sings poems in his language. He speaks, the poet is silent. He is silent, the poet speaks.
How beautiful it was in that winter garden,
The deep-running sleep of roses.
The poet makes us talk about winter in these quiet times. Don't ask, the flow of time at these times is magnificent. It blows the literature, the wind, kisses the poet on the forehead, the innocent rain, sometimes spreads the white on the ground. There are innocents who stare at the night in bewilderment, and their tongues call for winter with a soft melodic rhythm. He feels every rain, every frost and every white that falls on his heart belongs to him, A glove in his hands, he looks around with his eyes and mutters a few lines to winter.
Winter is coming, it is silence and yellow.
It was handed over to me with slow leaves.
that gorgeous print
I'm a snow book
A wide hand, a field
I'm a waiting circle
I belong to the world and its winter.
Think of a heart that beats on a shovel at night with a dream. Spreading snow on your sad heart. A heart that burns like a stove. This winter speaks to the heart. Then a glance... Then a heartbreaking flower shot into your heart.
It has been snowing on it for many years
With a sad heart, a moonless night, if
If you can't go to bed with the pain and sleep
That heart is not consoled by springs and summers
And nothing, oh pale, yellowed seasons
It doesn't get sweeter than pale darkness.
But that view changes. Drinking solitude becomes a poet on a winter's day. Some reproachful, somewhat hopeful words. There is a love in winter, a love in the poet. A lone groan, an ear-filling sound of a name. This voice in her will not only freeze people, but even birds. It is impossible not to be reproachful, the offspring are clean in the nest. It spills from frozen lips.
A little sweetness, a little delusion. Heart wake up, heart look, winter is winter again. The sun was trapped behind the clouds, the winter spoke and the poet wrote. There are only a few lines left written on the leaves.
Everyone is iridescent and I don't understand who is friend who is foe
I have a priority and a priority.
While I have easily succeeded in loving living without prejudice, I cannot give meaning to those who approach with prejudice, to those who run away from it, and whether I make sense to them or not is not important in my priorities.
My foreword is my teacher and student identity and its predecessor: I had a good career, albeit for a short time, but ended my career abruptly because of arrogant and arrogant people with prejudices.
Three dots so all my writings and poems I've written.
While there are enough exclamation marks hidden in my life, I have become famous again every day and the exclamation's obscure existence, I have now stopped my fondness for interrogative sentences because I couldn't get the right answer to the question I asked from anyone outside of my school life, moreover, dozens of people who say they love me while looking into my eyes can use our long-term law in one pen. While I had a duty to end it and put my pen to the ground, and even worse.
My dear friends and relatives, whom I have not been able to consult about what I have written since the first day I started writing, so much so that when I talk about literature, those who hung up the phone or the door in my face...
That's why my love for my pen grew even more, moreover, my loneliness has been registered to so many people while I have easily loved and given heart to a lifetime of devotion, and my loneliness has been registered, moreover, with all the people who did not withdraw their support for a long time and suddenly pulled back, and with the local, unrelated criticism that has nothing to do with literature, I officially left my pen and myself. it's them again when they failed to cool down for the first time.
I don't see it wrong to be self-centered because there is no one more valuable than me, but I have always struggled to be us for a lifetime, and somehow people have drawn clear lines, and I realized that whoever I set out and adopted, I understood; There are many people who do not deserve the love I feel, but while I have never given up hope, and seeing that I can still love easily, the Creator presented me with a new style:
While I can love every creature because of the Creator, and here is a process of about ten years that I took my hands off of myself, and even if the subject has nothing to do with me, the ones that make me feel guilty at every turn at every turn and at every turn, moreover, this strange line of thought that I came across when I did not start writing is such that As someone who has lived alone for many years, I am one of the scapegoats while everyone is talking about the sense of unity, while people are excluding each other more and more with the effect of politics.
Especially when I was not engaged in anything before writing and all my responsibilities did not go beyond doing housework and sports.
Whatever the color of a person is, everyone is iridescent and I don't understand who is friend and who is foe. In this context, these types of people are also dangerous for our country, and those who express their opinions according to the situation and people, especially if they have the power of sanction, I am not the only one whose hands are tied in this context...
A lifetime while living without exceeding my limits.
While I do not fail in my respect and respect for people.
And I've been blamed.
I never fit my writings to the sky, I'm not, on the other hand, I'm struggling like crazy to write better and improve myself.
When you love to love, while you can love for a lifetime and easily.
I am not only accused of not knowing what the subject is, and the mud splashing on me one step further, where even the love I have for people and my job, which is obvious on the way, is at peace with myself, good and bad.
My identity and humanity.
A cut while hostile to women.
I was relieved when time was not a problem
There is something strange, something missing in this room, I know. I still can't find what it is, but at least I'm not in a rush to succumb to time.
Because something strange happened. I was sitting on the sofa in the living room thinking what was missing. A fuss in the middle of my chest for no reason. I think I was in such a rush that the time came and she sat right next to him. That was the last time he measured it. The moment our eyes met. We agreed without speaking.
It was as if he was saying think whatever you want.
As much as I need timelessness, take it from me.
At least my heart was freed from a rush. Since there was no time problem, I was also comfortable. What will I find that is missing?
I control every item, every feeling in the hall one by one. There is something missing, I know there is something strange, I can feel it in my bones, but I can't find what the damn thing is missing.
Curtains, cushions, half-dry flowers, coffee table, what's on the coffee table. An empty bottle on the table, a few sedated tranquilizers. A letter that you wrote to me, but for some reason it ends as sorry, forgive me.
Strange though, why did you write me a letter?
Anyway.
All ok, all ok.
But what is missing?
Of course.
The carpet, the goddamn carpet, and the huge gap in the middle.
I guess that's what's missing.
I tried, but I tried for hours to remove that huge stain in the middle. I tried every way, every chemical I could think of, it didn't work. Finally I cut out and threw away the stained part. You don't like it because you stained things.
I couldn't resist the carpet either. I know how precious that carpet is to us, I couldn't throw it away. When we first moved into this house, we had no money. I kept talking and you left because I'm coming right away. After a while you came back with that horrible carpet in your hand. A black, worn carpet with torn edges. That rug you bought secondhand with the last money in your pocket. Our first bed, our first dining table, the carpet we made love to after our first fight.
I couldn't throw him.
It didn't come out, damn stain, you can't love the stains and the red ones. I cut it out and threw it away. There is a huge void in the middle of the carpet now, just like that void I felt in the middle of my chest. Anyway, some of them still exist.
Besides, they lied to us, some colors supposedly don't show stains.
Lie!
Then how is it that a crimson stain in the middle of the black carpet looks as if it were white?
This means that no color can cover some stains. White to see someone off, black to send someone off, brown earth to their destination, blue sky above their heads, greenish under their feet. None of them can close the body of red. None of them can afford the pain that red leaves inside people...
Liars, liars.
They lied to us.
Anyway, what was I saying...
There is something missing in this room, I know there is something strange. There is a strangeness in this house, just like that strangeness that keeps squeezing my chest. It's not just the carpet that's missing. It can't be that carpet washed in red, it's just weird. If there was any oddity, when I got home, I wouldn't have found you lying so peacefully on that carpet in red, would I?
Besides, you don't like stains, so you can't be so peaceful in such a strange situation.
So it must be something else, something else.
I know, I know you'll be home soon, I'm being lazy again. I'm definitely hungry, I need to cook.
But there is one thing missing in the hall, a huge space.
Time and I are sitting on the couch. He also knows that there is something strange, that I am filled with a huge void. We met eye to eye at the last time he measured it.
“As much as I need timelessness, I will stop,” he said.
And time stopped.
Time and I stopped.
I believe that we can accept our understanding and differences
We leave the old behind and move towards the new.
We climb the ladder of life quickly.
We can't decide whether to be happy or sad!
While expressing our feelings and thoughts, we carry the traces and residues of the time period we left behind. If those residues have a negative character, get rid of them; How we would love to take wings and fly. If we can manage, maybe we will; but unfortunately we are the most unlucky creatures who do not have this ability.
There is never a day when we do not try to minimize the effect of the negativities we have experienced on us. Isn't that the right thing? Experiences and experiences make us wise; We always hope that it will contribute to the increase of our motivation to live well.
We want experiences that we can describe as wonderful to turn into gains in our lives; because we see them as reminders of the beauty and importance of life. And we want those beauties to remain as pearls that we can carry on our necks...
On the threshold of a new year, we like to think of those who are fighting for truth and justice. Those who oppose all kinds of injustice; we think of those big hearts that defend peaceful coexistence.
We think of those who remind us of the importance of nature in our lives and struggle to protect it. For this reason, I wish these efforts to be taken seriously and to be supported.
I know; We have been through and are going through difficult times. But despite everything, I also believe that we should not lose hope. Who can prevent the sunrise every day?
We need to be in solidarity in order to realize our dreams of good and beautiful. As this is for social development and peace; It is also of great importance for a good life based on love and respect. Otherwise, it will be inevitable for us to fall into pessimism and insecurity. Which will hinder our efforts to enjoy life. And it will cause us to risk losing our self-confidence. I sincerely hope you avoid it.
I hope with all my heart that you will see new opportunities and have the courage to try unknown paths while you are feeling stuck.
We must not forget that each of us is special; We are very valuable to ourselves and our loved ones.
I am one of those who believe that we can build a good future only with love, understanding and acceptance of our differences.
Without giving place to hatred, oppression and violence; without despising people for their differences; We must choose to live without exclusion and marginalization. Since enmity and hatred will lead humanity to disasters; I wish you to always keep empathy and respect calm in your heart.
Let's protect nature and all living things: Let's not harm trees and forests; because they are our source of life. We need to take action, never forgetting that unplanned and unnecessary consumption will make the planet we live on increasingly uninhabitable. This for future generations; I hope you don't forget what we must do to fulfill our responsibility towards our children and grandchildren.
In short; I wish the new year brings health and peace to all of you.
I watch my palms with prayers rising from my heart
I try to separate the thoughts of loneliness from each other by myself.
Whereas it was when I was afraid, but I want to accustom myself to your absence.
I separate all that has passed between us, and only the head-turning result appears before me. Only amazement falls on me after every issue.
I think of the similarities between what I told you and what you told me.
I'm just trying to distinguish between what I've been talking about and what you're thinking. At the end of a one-sided dream decomposition, only nothing comes out. Then it was just curiosity, just indecision, which were thoughts that would reach our lifetimes.
In fact, these were fearless but exciting thoughts. Whereas it was just your silence, my thoughts in the dark.
What he lacked now were the dissociated differences of thought of memories hanging from the past.
The only thing I want to keep in myself in my words that I respect, that I want to add to my life as a plural of trusting friendship bonds only in your presence.
How we love to live the ready. Without effort, far from sincerity, far from love and respect. Whatever we want to understand is back to shopping.
I need a heavy rain
To a strong wind
I need to be ice cold
to be rigid
I need not to understand anything, not to hear
I do not care
I'm sick and tired of fighting
Trying now feels like a waste of time after repetitive people and situations
Disbelief against man
Again, your dejavu face has changed, but I know people in this spirit well, I'm tired because...
This place is full of people from hell
I feel the fire that they will burn.
If it is wrong, there is no correction anymore, if it is wrong, it will burn.
I meant streets and rain, yes. I look at my watch as it moves fast, unconsciously ticking as if overwhelmed by the clouds. It's like the sky has turned into a gray mist that has spilled its blue. With prayers rising from my heart in my palms, I watch the intensity of the rain in the thunder of thunder.
For a moment, I become the hands of a florist woman on the corner with an expatriate stance. Consciousness that keeps his face away from the rain, a little bit of bread anxiety. My eyes touch the heart of sadness at these times.
Is unhappiness a sin? I say quietly!
Then;
I am the eyes of the restaurateur watching the rain behind the window. Looking helplessly at those who come and go. My long silence, that is, distractions lined up in my pharynx.
Take shelter in a tree in the middle of a long street, my eyes are fixed on the child. How hard it is to absorb your helplessness in these times. I stay silently under that tree with my soul sweating.
We are a disgrace when the despair of the sky is revealed.
I'm in the silence that fits the world in one street. Drops of rain fall on my eyelashes. Whoever I look at is talking to himself, picking up his frequency in a whisper.
We are looking
We just look, believe the silence in the middle of our minds and then remain silent. We swallow betrayals that underestimate the pain of the street. We think that silence gives strength, and we are content with this helplessness.
Consciousness should not be poor like a prayer whose altar has been stolen. And one should not emphasize the sorrow on the white paper.
In fact, it was the trust of friendship hanging from yesterday that gave way to my life most of the time.
Your existence, reaching for years, was dominating my thoughts while accompanying my body.
It was the time that reached the solitude of these days from the existence of yesterdays that caused the real body tremors.
Yes, yesterday's close ties were the life force in the absence of these days, with my bond of love that will reach the real years.
I am glad that you have arrived and that you have accompanied a part of my life, it was undoubtedly your unforgettable days.
No doubt your absence will be your absence in my life.
You will remain in my prayers forever my dear friend.
If there is anyone else in the world but you, you are not alone
When I lay my head on my pillow; I wanted to question myself and face myself with an internal calculation, empathy, self-criticism.
Who am I?
Am I myself or someone else?
How many identities do I have in me?
I told my truth to everyone;
What about my lies?
I think the person who says "I don't lie" has told his first or last lie. Dont forget; Even if no one knows, it will make your soul live the hell of the lies in this world and the paradise of the truth.
That is why do not seek your heaven or hell under the ground. Whatever it is, it's all here.
In fact, the mind of every person; he makes self-criticism automatically while the brain is resting on a daily basis.
But since the human mind is on its side, it sculpts the events on its side.
Erdem, you should improve your ability to calculate the error rate in matters that you think are right.
You also need to learn to look at the events in your life from someone else's perspective.
It is certain that I was born of man, that I am a human being; Where am I on the human adjective needle?
Am I as I was born?
How was I born and how will I end?
And I said to myself;
Every ending is the beginning of something else.
As something reshapes at the end of every war.
But the real truth is; no war has a winner.
Therefore; You have no loss or shame in seeing the world as your homeland and people as a citizen.
Your real loss and shame; is to see someone else as an enemy instead of fighting your own self. However, the greatest enemy of mankind is none other than himself.
Never carry the fear of losing in the struggle of life, consider your loss as a kind of gain.
Experience!
There may be obstacles that you think are insurmountable on the right path you are walking. Let this never break your hope.
Be like water, fight with water philosophy determination. Water overcomes every obstacle, sometimes it goes around the obstacle that it cannot overcome, sometimes it fills the dam over time and overflows the obstacle, and now it evaporates and rains again. But it will overcome any obstacle.
You will win.
Erase the fear of loneliness from your mind, remember that if there is someone else in the world other than you, no one is alone.
What you should be afraid of is; waking up one morning to see that you are the only one left out of seven billion people. Everything is yours but it's time to go crazy
What you leave unfinished in one, someone else completes.
Or; What you find in one, you look for in another. The choice to complete or be completed is yours.
Life goes on living; You name it with whom and with whom you will continue.
Who knows, maybe in another continuation; or
You can be someone else's continuation.
Because; You can neither deny nor prevent man from reigning over man.
You can go and feel enough in your soul and soul to continue in one. or you can stay and be "lovable" enough to have a sequel, that's your decision. Because there is an absolute continuation of man in man. But you choose the one next to you, don't change the comrade you set out with with the one you find on the road.
And don't do this; Never ignore the one next to you. Because; A person is a heart, whatever you save in your heart, you spend as much as you save.
Use your mind so that you accumulate people.
When you say use your mind; It didn't even occur to me that every person is a party to their own mind.
When the mind becomes a party to itself, won't the common mind be eliminated? In the disposal of the common mind, only one mind is mistaken.
When it comes to mind; You believe in the infinity of the mind just like science. This belief may not be approved by others, but I think science is the mind, and so is the mind; expands science to infinity with the glasses of doubt.
Does science create reason or does mind create science? Who knows, maybe they are complementary to each other.
Anyway, before I get confused, let me get back to the topic. Because the idea ends where the mind is dull, and where the idea ends; thought escapes. Let me think that I don't forget that I exist.
Is just reason enough for you? Don't you need a conscience? I guess it's just the mind you robot; only conscience makes naivety.
In my opinion, the greatest first court before the Judgment of Judgment is the conscience of man.
No criminal can ever be acquitted of that crime in his conscience as long as he hides it and does not confront his conscience inside.
Which state you gave the mirror did not reflect it to you? Life is just like that.
Whatever good or bad you projected to whom in the course of your life did not come back to you?
Wasn't this a reflection of your choices and decisions back to you? Why are you angry with others?
If you don't want to hear what you don't want; Speak by thinking of the fact that he who says what he wants hears what he does not want.
You can face and forgive yourself, it's up to you.
The more you forgive, the less the burden on your soul's shoulders.
Maybe it was three or five poems that I snacked on that didn't suppress my hunger
My heart is whacked: what does it seem?
Some people who suffer from my subject, sometimes and the embarrassing embarrassment: love is full of sadness, like a note hidden in the texture and spirit of the heart, and sorrow in the expeditionary hijr.
However, neither my sorrow nor my feelings that I bridle.
If there is a God, there is no sorrow.
There are people in mourning, and here are the fugitive words, lustrous colors on the red blood cells of love, and the subject of the death of my white forehead, the subject of which I imitate, another world's reservoir, the sloped satire is wounded.
As my eyes scan the universe.
Keep your hair full while combing.
The girl of mystery is the light of the eye and the foreword of my story.
I have fairy tales, ladies and gentlemen.
My milestone has changed a thousand times and the only thing that does not change is my loneliness and my longing for a friend.
That window I hung.
A sublime altitude, as if the nobility and guidance hidden on the hill where the sky moves where love competes, if mine is ignorant courage, would I stretch my hand to every heart?
Big laughs.
A divine effect, perhaps anger.
The vanishing horizon.
Blissful bliss.
While the concerto is the season's and the core syllable is the essence of love and words, here is the heart's final confession that I could not approve my pre-wind edict issued by the season in which love goes to extremes...
Making room for tomorrow.
The precursor is vague, even insignificant.
While I was expelled from the hundredth village gate, whose foreword turned the day and night, while knowing and loving the headman of each village and its people wholeheartedly...
Shall we meet, sir and you dear lady?
You know, the one we greet yesterday...
You know, the one we shook hands with just yesterday…
You know, every time I get stuck, I run to you...
I am your heart.
The song of the reinforcing sadness.
For now I'm the best man, my left side hidden in yesterday and my fading face and fading joy.
I had one request, but maybe dozens…
Talking love.
I am charged with blunders and the inner voice is also a notice.
Mercy and intuition hidden in my intuition, my heart and vast dictionary, the festival-laden enthusiasm inside me, the wind and the route of the sky outside of me is a rainbow, if I am the soldier of sorrow, the belt on my waist is very tight.
I could never be tight-lipped with people, I usually bored them and you, although I had a lot to say, since the universe gave me the right of passage, our acquaintance is my heart, your hearts, which I know for the sake of all this time...
My subject was singular.
If my longing is plural…
My dedication and foreword and precondition is friendship and my singing inner voice.
One thing is the urge inside me.
A pain whose blood pressure does not go down.
I was not the hunter of the stories, I am not the hero of the stories at all: I am a storyteller at best. I can't get enough of telling you and your ignoring my love and need for you while you ignore it, maybe a black spot in your eyes, with the peace and confidence of being human at your core...
If I had friction, the damp steps inside me, I climbed, I climbed, I regretted, maybe I stayed, that Purgatory I was still in doubt with the badge of the past, I cracked with the badge of the past.
Maybe it was the three or five poems that I had to snack on while I was crushed and I couldn't end my love that I couldn't hide the astonishment of the cursor and exclamation point, the subset of which escaped from the dictionary in my life with a cutting saw. As the shadows descend, people play in the stands…
I'm in the captain's mansion, the raft called.
I'm swinging.
I'm hiding…
I am acquitted…
Perhaps the highest position I have transferred.
Lie impartiality.
I burn as much as I burn.
I don't care about anyone other than I beg my Lord, or would I bounce with my subject on the slope of longing and would I pull out your demon's teeth with my noble stance?
My words are the wound I rub salt in.
My heart that I lick.
My story as much as I've been looted.
While undeniable.
Even when you can't reflect.
What is the echo of longing, patched words, half-life.
Did I burn?
Wait, I've only just begun…
I wish what I wanted to say was limited to these...
I offer my condolences to the pen that pats me on the back with regret, and I don't actually say why I'm saying it lately...
Besides, I don't write so that someone will pity me and I don't live.
I am a dream, after all.
More than the wand of love...
The scepter and the pen.
Whether you like it or not, while I have loved for a lifetime easily for everyone else...
The subject is closed, of course, until the next article, otherwise how will my sad heart live the summer?
If you were, I would warm your hands in mine
Today I am writing to you from the palace of my heart.
The weather has been cold and rainy for three days.
Snow has come, the harbinger of the weather will come.
I looked at the tops of the mountains, the snow has fallen there.
It's about to fall in our village.
It makes you feel from the cold of snow.
A little good during the day, but in the evening; especially at night it is freezing outside. I am cold.
You are not here too.
If you were, I would warm your hands in mine. Even though I light the stove with woods, it burns out in a flash. Despite his insistence that I do not want to buy coal! I always have the fear of coal poisoning. That's why I try to stay away from coal. I haven't slept in my small bedroom for a few days. Since the stove is in the living room, I sleep there for now. I opened my orange sofa in the living room; I take advantage of the heat of my stove, which is constantly burning because I write and read books until late at night. When I'm tired, I lie on the sofa. My loneliness is trying to sleep in sadness, but believe me, the absence of you does not sleep! If you were next to me, we would hug you warmly and have sweet dreams with you. Shall we call it fate?
There was the novel you gave me as a gift; In the name of MY LOVE. I couldn't sleep in bed because my head was always busy with you. I got out of bed and grabbed that novel from my desk. As I started to read from where I left off, tears started to flow from my eyes. This separation hurt me a lot.
We were together like yesterday with you. I blew my hot breath on his lips as we went to the place where we sipped our coffees in the hidden garden, hand in hand, that I had just bought. Our beautiful hours came before my eyes. I inhaled the scent deeply. Those moments when I touched your hair brought me spring, a thousand and one roses bloomed in my heart. I stand with your sweet memories. I am patiently waiting for the next reunion with gratitude for your existence. At every sunrise, my eyes reach the sky at my window, I hug your warmth, even if it's in my imagination... I take your photo out of my bosom and kiss it. Did you feel the warmth on my lips, the beats of my heart?
There is no one to talk to here. In the past, I would sometimes stop by the village coffeehouse, looking for people to talk to and share my thoughts with. My silence was broken when a few people came to my table and started chatting. Coming from house to city, from city to house and retreating to my solitude made me more happy. My books, my cats, my dogs, my puppies and the chirping of my birds that fill my three pine trees are enough for me. Oh, if it were you, I wouldn't be satisfied with my life, my blue rose.
The sky is completely grey. As if mourning me. I want to shout to the night, to the mountains, to the countryside of my village. How hard it is without you, to surrender to fate! Those who see my state of bed are asking.” How are you? What is this?” What should I say? “I am like a country!” I say to them. Sorrow and troubles are running down my legs, my tears are flooding the streets. It's not far from you. You are always in my dreams, in the stories and poems I write.
While I was writing the letter, I went outside to get some air. My cat, the princess of my house, did not come. I was wondering about that too. What do I see as soon as I go out? I told you that winter is at the door. It's like a white quilt is draped over the night. I was very happy and sad at the same time. If you were by my side, we would play snowballs! I remember my childhood. We used to have snowball fights in the garden of our first school with my schoolmates, we used to sledge down the galley. Now I'm watching the snowfall alone, my eyes are full of tears..
It's enough to breathe outside, I'm cold. I'm going in. On the stove, brewed in tea. While sipping my tea, I will continue from where I left off with my LOVELY novel. I'm going to finish out of breath tonight.
As I put an end to my lines here, I kiss your bright, white forehead, my dear.
You are entrusted to God there.
My eyes are on the road; It will always be so until you come!
@Loneliness
