It’s the third of August

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s the third of August, the second day of the beginning of the second week without you. When I woke up this morning I remembered the line I had written before “But my silly old heart is sad and it still misses you.” And it still does this morning. I dreamed last night how hundreds of Elephants trampled down that little lost refugee teen – but incredible, he survived. No matter he had brought it all on himself as a revenge for life’s brutality. But in real world and last seen, he was questioned in court by sneery defense lawyers. In my dream he survived, but in waken naked reality – who will care for him? About me this morning, I sat long at the bedside and I felt like we had lost that mental connection we once had, you and I. And then I was thinking about my dream again, probably inspired by the last week’s scandal news and I thought I would never stand up to be a plaintiff in a Swedish trial and be humiliated by such stiff actors in a rigid inhumane costume drama, Kafka like! Never! But what a weird dream, why? And again it came back to me, that impression we now had lost the soul connection I believed we had before. So I just sat there, hopeless and numb, time ticking away, looking down at my bare knees and felt lonely and abandoned, wondering what next would come in life, nothing? Although I knew well it was I who left you. Yet, what to do? I had to get up from my bed and start the day, coffee and toast firstly as usual. And outside but yet far from my current windows, cluster of rowan berries will blushes again for another year.

rose, whiterose, white

 

 

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This entry was posted in dreaming, loss, lost, love story, missing, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, reality, sadness, Short prose and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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