Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh had gone through; I dream of what it may go through. I record here the actions of optical nerves, of taste buds, of sensory perception. And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence.

I'm Saranda. I just want to write beautiful things that touch people.

miles to go

I finally found the courage to visit
the forest you had always recommended. Miles 
from my house and I had never brought 
myself to face the space. You hung in the air
and I swear you created the light 
that spread across the naked branches
and desolate swings. Wafts of the breeze
flirted with my skin. That was you,

wasn’t it? The left swing
was always yours, you would 
say. Today, it was slowly rocking
with the chilly breeze. But despite
the crisp breath, I was softly caressed
by the sun; such subtle reassuring 
gestures. Darling, that was you.

Wasn’t it?

Tags: writingyeahwritewriteworldauthormywritingwritewordslitpoempoetrywordwrittendarlinglovelossheartachenatureparkliteraturemodern poetry
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