Letters To Sofia:

 

A young mother sits, a box of crinkled, yellowed papers before her.
All those years, so many letters. so many memories, so much love.
She sits and reads the letters written to her by her mother.
discreetly wiping the tears from her eyes...


She sits, remembering her mother and the gentle person she was.
Now she takes out sheet of paper & begins to write
She looks out the window, Smiling as she watches her little one play


Her little angel, with auburn locks glimmering in the summer sun.
Her tiny hands toss and drop a bright red ball.
Her little feet scamper across the lawn to catch it.


She continues writing, her heart jumbled with emotions.
Looking up, she stops to feel the warm breeze across her face,
Like the warmth of her mothers hands when they once held her close.


She finishes her letter, seals it with a kiss.
and places it in a newly painted pink box,
Joining a few other letters that have come before it.


Slowly, she makes her way outside,
Still watching her little girl laugh and play.
She pauses a moment to pick a tiny flower growing on a bush,
Picks off the petals and sighs quietly. So many memories...


The little girl sees her mother and smiles.
A beaming smile this mother would never forget,
She watches her little girl run toward her with open arms.
She falls to knees, laughing, and gathers her daughter in her arms.
Cradling her, rocking back and forth, as her daughters laughter fills the air.

Spanish Steps

 

Her table by the window at El Cafe' Salambo was perfectly positioned for taking in the view of the lively streets of Grácia. She was intoxicated, not by the wine glass in her hand but by the people and the fervor they portrayed in life, the arts and love. Sipping slowing,  she stared. Taking in the scenery; her eyes never leaving the streets. She could hear the faint sound of the spanish guitar, it's beautiful melody followed by rhytmic clapping. Flamenco music. At the far corner of the square, among the crowds of people, a woman danced. Entranced, she left the cafe' and ventured towards the music. she saw her. A woman, with hair black as the raven, swept into a bun.with  a single rose behind her ear and a black dress that clung perfectly and swayed gracefully then violently as she turned. Her eyes piercing and her movements fluid and strong. It was as if she had ventured into a place no one could follow, exhibiting a feeling no one could understand. The concentration she displayed was intriguing, There was such amazing grace and power. A few little girls began a dance of their own, giggling, trying to mimic the beautiful dancer. A man selling flowers placed tiny flowers in their hair. They jumped and smiled in excitement. All too soon, the music stopped and the crowd broke away, she stayed there a few minutes more to watch the woman and the musicians pack away their instruments. then they were gone. Disappearing like ghosts into the crowded streets. Leaving behind only the memory of the music.

SONG OF THE DAY:

"Outside, the rain is tapping on the leaves, to me it sounds like they're applauding us, the quiet love we've made." What lyrics! Funnily enough, this song makes me long for a rainy day and a juliet balcony to sit near as i sip my tea and watch the rain drops fall.