Missing Grandpa

Does this darkness have a name?

Who exactly should I blame?

For the sorrow and the pain

That will come to me again?

You’re song lingers in my heart;

As if we'll never be apart.

But when I look at the wooden door

I know that it won’t open anymore.

Sunrise whispers words so sweet,

Also hoping that we meet;

But it’s sunset by the sea

And you aren’t near me.

As I look at the horizon,

And I feel forever broken,

I know grandpa’s over seas –

He can’t hear my painful screams.

In my pocket lies your photo,

Your voice sounds just like an echo,

The books you read surround me –

And yet it’s you I want to see.

You’re holding out your hand so warm

And afraid of another storm,

I reach forward like a toddler –

It’s thin air; not your finger.

When it falls, my lonely tear,

I hold back my biggest fear:

That you’ll never smile again

And I’ll always live in pain.

Gentle eyes hidden behind glasses,

Look at the door that now closes.

For the last time I look back

Knowing now what I will lack.

I feel sunrise hugging earth,

While night gives its one last breath.

But it’s sunset by the sea

And you aren’t near me.

Haiku Monday: Rain

Boxer is the host this week, so everyone should go there and check all the "rainy" haikus that other bloggers shared.  http://boxeranonymous.blogspot.com/

These are my entries:

Ephemeral rain

Gifted by nature. It's our

Elixir of life.

Shy paws check waters

Forming ripples on the ground

Puppy in the rain.

                            ~  Click on the photo to see this puppy run ~


Rain goes here and there

Bringing rainbows everywhere

I am mesmerised. 

Haiku Monday Winner

Hello everyone! First of all, I want to praise each of you. All the haikus were absolutely beautiful. 
This week I found out exactly how tough it is to be host. I loved reading every haiku and seeing what incredible ideas everyone had, but choosing just one haiku was really hard. The visuals helped me lot too and now I am able to understand their importance much better.  
Three haikus out of 28 really got under my skin. 


Dianne wrote a very interesting haiku: 


Beauty of Springtime
New shoots and buds emerging                              
Colours Winter's grey.


Dianne managed to express the beauty of Spring and how this season brings color to the world, after Winter turned everything into a grey univers. It’s like having a canvas in front of you and all you have to do is to add color, turning it into a work of art. Unfortunately, no visuals accompanied this haiku but it impressed me anyway.


Next is Boxer: 


Resident jester
Mongrel, origin unknown
To us, perfection


If anyone wonders why I liked this haiku, I can explain it in one word: Dogs! They are the most loyal and cute animals in this world, in my opinion. The difference between dogs and other animals is that they love their owner and they are loyal to him until the end. They offer their love without asking for nothing in return. The only thing they want is maybe a bit of love in return. Every dog is perfect and special in its own way no matter what breed it is. 
A few years ago, the story of one dog really impressed me. Hachiko was an Akita dog and it belonged to a professor that used to travel a lot by train. The dog used to wait for him at the station every day. After a year, the professor died, but the dog kept on waiting for him at the station every day for 10 years. I think this proves how loyal dogs can be and this story made me appreciate dogs even more. 


Another haiku that made me wonder why I have to choose just one winner is the one Moi shared with us:


Fractured limestone peaks
once obscured by ocean’s depths
now commune with sun. 


I was drawn to this haiku because it shows a beautiful part of the world we live in that many don’t notice. The visual was outstanding and I could almost feel like I was there, seeing the greatness of the mountain and feeling the fresh air. It’s magical!


And now….The announcement everyone is expecting….This week’s Haiku Monday Winner is….


BOXER! 


Congratulations everyone and thanks again for playing this week!  :)

Haiku Monday

Hello Everyone!

I am your host for this week’s Haiku Monday. I am honored and I would like to thank everyone for the votes. I am excited to host this week and I hope many of you will accept the challenge. Everyone is welcome and I hope we will have some new players too.

“Life is full of beauty. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.” Ashley Smith.

The Haiku Monday theme is “Beauty”.

The usual rules are applied. 5-7-5 /17 syllables format. You can submit as many entries as you like, but choose the two that you want judged. Kireji and Kigo are not necessary but you can use these elements if you like. You can also post visuals on your blog because they might serve as a tie breaker and they also make everything more fabulous and interesting. Deadline is at Midnight Pacific Time on Monday. The winner will be announced on Tuesday.

Good luck to everyone! I hope many of you will accept the challenge.

Haiku Monday: Treasure

This week the host is Chickory....http://chickory.blogspot.com/

Apparently my imagination ran away this week and I couldn't come up with some decent haikus. I have some ideas but apparently I can't find the right words. This is absolutely annoying: staying for hours with papers in front of me ready to write something and putting all those ideas into words...and in the end...blank.
Okay so here is what I came up with:

Touching Freedom

Forests hide footsteps
Rain dances with her beauty.
She touches freedom.

Cloud

Fluffy thing drifts by
From the kingdom of the sky.
Cloud sheep are the best!

Make it shine!

Syllables form words
Words then turn into stories
Stories make us shine.

The last one is about the importance of our life. We make our own story and these are one of the treasures that we hold. Just my opinion!

Haiku Monday: Nocturnal

This week Haiku Monday is hosted by Scout at http://preservingthesouth.blogspot.com/

And these are the haiku that I wrote for this theme:

The howling is heard
Wolves are calling out for those
Who truly love darkness.

The second haiku refers to some fantasy creatures of the night - vampires. I chose them because I think they can be included in this theme and also because my country is where the legend of Dracula was born. The region called Transylvania is the one that inspired Bram Stoker to write his book. 

Drops of red blood fall

As their sharp fangs sink deeper...

Darkness hides victims.

Inside a snow globe

         Tick Tock…and the seconds melted to dust…
She walked slowly, dragging her feet through the white sand. Her shiny brown eyes were watching the sunset beyond the horizon. The sky was a swirl of pink, orange and blue, being very similar to a waltz between two lovers. Eva watched in awe until everything turned into Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”.
“Every living thing in the galaxy has a single shining star inside of it.” Thought Eva, “but which one is my star? Are there any more beyond the glass that surrounds my world?”
Unknown to her, Eva was a special girl. She was the girl that would fight for her dreams until they became reality. But she would only find this out later. For now, her world was simply gray. She felt like a stain that not even the biggest eraser in the world could clean. Her biggest wish was to color the world and herself and break the glass wall that stood between her and freedom.
Time slips so quickly….
She was surrounded by darkness. The sun she once loved had disappeared. That second was the kind of moment that told her that she should forget about dreams and come back to the real world. But Eva could not do that. She was surrounded by silky ropes that could not be untied, thus keeping her captive in her imaginary world…in the world of dreams…in a world that would never be real. 
“Nobody dares to be truly sad, nobody dares to be truly happy. We find ourselves in a strange world of life and death…half life…half death. By our choices we decide towards which half we are going.”
Suddenly, Eva heard noises that became louder. She knew what was to come: her world would be shaken and snowflakes will fall while a pair of eyes will watch the scene. A few seconds later she started dancing through the white sand and in the rain of snowflakes, wishing for her dream to come true… “Freedom…how nice it sounds!” But she then met the stunning green eyes that watched her.
“You like seeing birds trapped in cages, don’t you? How cruel can you get?“ thought Eva.
After a few more shakes, sounds started to subside.
“It’s so strange how all sounds simply turn on and off, on and off, like that game of ‘Musical Chairs’; a game where I am always out; a game where I am always…just…ME.
Time has a way of pulling people apart…
There was a time, long ago, when Eva was truly happy. It was the time when she had a friend. The first owner of the snow globe, which is Eva’s world, was a little girl called Amy. Eva fell in love with Amy’s blue eyes, and with her smile. Amy would always talk to Eva through the glass wall and when she shook the globe, Eva felt like a princess lulled by gentle waves.
But one day, Amy decided to move to a new house and forgot about Eva.
“You appeared, but disappeared just as fast. Just like a demon. And even if you disappeared, the illusion that you were here stays. I don’t regret the fact that I met you, Amy! Past things will always stay in the past, and the future heals through present. At least, I hope so. I still hope. I am sure you are not a demon.” These are the words that Eva wanted to tell to Amy. But she never got the chance.
Blinded by tears, sobbing in darkness, feeling herself empty on the inside, she became am empty shell and closed herself from any other feelings. “Pain fades away with the flow of time.” But Eva wasn’t looking for a cure. She just wanted to be happy again. 
One day, Lucy, whom was now the snow globe’s owner, came and shook Eva’s world. She had tears in her eyes. Eva felt a bit upset and decided to dance in the snow. She didn’t know how much time she spent dancing but when she looked up at the girl, she was astonished to see her smiling. Just because Lucy watched her, she became happier. Then, the girl placed the globe on her nightstand in front of a little mirror. Eva looked at herself surrounded by the glass walls and saw something written on the snow globe's support: “I offer you this hoping that it will make you as happy as it made me. Amy.”
Eva was stunned. She understood everything the wrong way. Her world wasn’t gray at all. On the contrary, she was the one holding all the colors and she had to color the lives of others. The glass walls were protecting her from the bad things that could stop her from sending colors out, and not trapping her inside. 
“Humans are weak. But weakness is not a bad thing. Due to their insecurities they use things like my snow globe in order to form ties and stay strong. If I believe in tomorrow and step forth, I will live a strong life and that means that I will be able to smile! I had given up on people because I thought that they only bring sadness. But I am actually the light, and the glass is the prism, and together we form the colors. I used to treat my life as something insignificant and I forgot about the things I love. I made a great mistake. The painful memories are the ones that become the seeds of tomorrow and make us strong. Until now I thought I was the princess locked up in a tower and I was waiting for the prince. But actually, the world outside the glass wall is the princess and I am the knight in shining armor. I promise to always bring happiness whenever my world shakes. And thank you Amy for being my friend and bringing out my true value. Feelings aren’t visible to the eyes, but you, Amy, made them visible through the gifts you made. Thank you!
With these words, Eva tied a ribbon in her hair and smiled. She wanted to change who she was and show her confidence to the world. She found the magic that the snow globe possessed. “ I want to show the world a different me!”
From that day on, Eva kept dancing and playing with the snowflakes whenever her world shook. Owners of the snow globe kept changing. Blue eyes turned to green than to gray and brown and back to blue. But the one thing that stayed the same was Eva’s smile. The snow globe is still bringing happiness and painting the world. I know it because it has a special place on my nightstand and I watch its beauty every night until I fall asleep.
Tick Tock…and seconds melted to dust…

Candles

          Have you ever thought about what you have done with your life? Have you embarrassed it or lost it? Or have you lived it exactly how you wished, without having regrets? Because you can’t answer this question, you look for a place where the answer will show itself. A small and empty room, four walls covered with spider webs, appears somewhere in the imaginary world that you create. Above you a beautiful chandelier sends light around the room and you are pushed inside by the warm breeze.
 When you enter the room you are astonished by the candles that surround you. The days of the future, represented by small rows of lighten candles, are in front of you like a pearl necklace that shines brightly. These candles are golden, warm and alive. The days of the past are left behind, like a poor row of extinguished candles; you can still see the smoke coming out of last week’s days. How different are these candles, cold, melted and twisted; it makes you sad when you think of their first shining light, and you turn your back on them watching closely just the lighten candles. You go through the rows looking at each candle, feeling the warmth they give away, because you are too scared to look back and see how fast the string of dark candles stretches and how quickly the number of extinguished candles increases. 
 Yet, driven by curiosity, you will turn around and you will realize the time you lost, which is much more than you imagined, and you will seek an exit. You will try to look for a window in that room where life is presented in a way that is both ironic and funny, by candlelight. If you will find one, and if it will open, it might comfort your tormented soul. After a lot of time spent in this childish game of hide and seek, when other candles will say goodbye to the fire that gave them life, you will realize that you are actually afraid of the window that you seek because you don’t know what is on the other side and you think that that light may be a new torment.
 Now you are watching closely a red candle and then you see another, and another… and you realize that those are the moments when you said you would change yourself; that you will leave and never come back in the past. You said that you will find a better city, a bluer sea. You said you won’t be staying here where you see around only the wasted and destroyed years that seem black ruins of your life. And yet, you are still lying here, as if you are sentenced to life in a prison that you built and you own the keys, but you are too afraid to use them. 
 You sit down, contemplating, and thus the monotony starts. A monotous day follows another, identical, and thus the candles will go out one by one without you noticing anymore. You will do the same things again, moments coming and leaving without you paying attention. You will lose opportunities, hopes, dreams, possibilities, and finally you will lose yourself. The last candle will become like the rest of them: cold, twisted, small, its flame barely flickering, and a day which you will call “today” will end by no longer existing a “tomorrow”.

Lumanarile

Te gandesti cateodata la ce ai facut cu viata ta? Daca ai injosit-o sau pierdut-o? Sau daca ai petrecut-o asa cum ai dorit, fara regrete? Pentru ca nu iti poti raspunde, cauti un loc unde raspunsul ti se va arata. O camera goala si mica, numai patru pereti inveliti in panza, iti apare undeva in lumea imaginara pe care tu o creezi. Deasupra ta arde un frumos candelabru. Camera luminata este cuprinsa de caldura dogoritoare a candelabrului ce te face sa inaintezi parca impins de un vant puternic.
Intrand in camera observi cu stupoare ca esti inconjurat de siruri intregi de lumanari. Zilele viitorului, reprezentate de siruri mici de lumanari aprinse, se intind ca niste margele rasfirate pe o podea lucioasa. Aceste lumanari sunt aurite, calde si vii. Zilele trecute raman in urma, ca un jalnic sirag de lumanari stinse; ultima saptamana trecuta o poti vedea inca fumegand. Cat de diferite sunt aceste lumanari, reci, topite
si-ncovoiate; parca te intristeaza si gandindu-te la amintirea licaririi lor prime te intorci cu spatele urmarind cu intensitate lumanarile aprinse. Inaintezi printre siruri cat mai aproape de lumanarile calde, pentru a nu te ingrozi cand vei vedea ce repede sirul intunecat se lungeste si cat de repede lumanarile stinse sporesc.
Si totusi, manat de curiozitate, te vei intoarce si iti vei da seama de timpul pierdut, care este mai mult deca ti-ai imaginat si vei cauta o iesire. Vei incerca sa cauti o fereastra in acea odaie unde viata este prezentata intr-un mod amuzant de ironic si anume prin lumina lumanarilor. Daca vei gasi una, si se va deschide, va fi o consolare. Dupa mult timp petrecut de tine in acest joc copilaresc de-a v-ati ascunselea, in care alte lumanari spun adio focului ce le dadea viata, realizezi ca de fapt iti este teama de fereastra pe care o cauti pentru ca nu stii ce este de cealalta parte si te gandesti ca acea lumina poate fi o noua tiranie.
Te uiti acum intens la o lumanare rosie, apoi zaresti o alta, si inca una…si iti dai seama ca acelea sunt momentele in care ai spus ca te vei schimba, ca vei pleca si ca nu te vei mai intoarce in trecut. Ai spus ca vei gasi un oras mai bun, o mare mai albastra. Ai spus ca nu vei mai sta aici unde nu vezi in jur decat anii irositi si distrusi ce par niste ruine negre ale vietii tale. Si totusi inca zaci aici, parca condamnat la o viata intr-o inchisoare pe care tu ai construit-o si ale carei chei tu le detii, dar iti este teama sa le folosesti.
Te asezi jos, contempland, si astfel porneste monotonia. O zi monotona o urmeaza pe alta, identica si astfel lumanarile se vor stinge una cate una fara ca tu sa-ti ami dai seama. Aceleasi lucruri le vei face din nou, clipele venind si parasindu-te fara ca tu sa le bagi in seama. Vei pierde ocazii, sperante, visuri, posibilitati si in final te vei pierde pe tine. Ultima lumanare va ajunge ca restul, rece, indoita, mica, flacara abia palpaind, iar o zi pe care tu o vei numi “azi” se va sfarsi prin a nu mai aparea un “maine”.

Would you?

You look at me…
What do you see?
Do you listen or do you judge?
Do you forgive or hold a grudge?


If you knew I was alone…
Would you find me a new home?
If you knew I was in tears…
Would you drive away my fears?


If I was a withered flower…
Would you come and give me a shower?
If I would always wait in vain…
Would you come for me in rain?


If the sky wouldn’t be blue…
Would you give it back its hue?
If a song cannot be heard…
Would you buy me a new bird?


If a wolf cried at the moon…
Would you make it laugh so soon?
If white clouds were drifting by…
Would you ask the question “Why”?


If the wind would be wild…
Would you feel like a newborn child?
If you were to be Mother Earth…
Would you make me feel it worth?


If I always love the night…
Would you make me embrace light?
If I tell you “I’m your friend”…
Would you stay with me until the end?

Thoughts of a tree

Do you know that I have long since forgotten how to laugh as if I was having fun? It may seem as a direct way of starting but I don’t know the meaning of “beginning “or “end” anymore. I don’t know when I start to pretend and when I am myself. I don’t remember how my real laugh sounds; I only know the sound of tears, dropping on the floor. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed nature the way it is without other black thoughts clouding my judgement.
I feel like an oak standing lonely on a hill. Birds come and go quickly like my happy moments. Clouds are always above the oak, but sometimes they are so black that you forget if its night or day. Squirrels that made home in its bark are always arguing, saying that the tree is not good enough. And of course, there are always the termites. These are the ones that never leave and destroy the tree inch by inch, making it die slowly. They make it suffer until the tree can’t defend itself anymore. I’ll let you figure out by yourself what people are these.
My bark is already cracking, and other trees, if they were in my situation, would fear and believe the end is coming soon for them. But not me. I adore life, and I believe in many things that others don’t and that’s what means “Think Pink”. And this oak hides the fact that, the special trees and animals that care for it, are the reason why this oak stands proud on top of the hill.

Puppet

Look at the lifeless creature,
Sitting lonely in the dark.
I would love to have its picture,
So it can forever leave its mark.


It smiles slightly, but it’s fake,
I bet it cries inside in vain.
How much laughter will it take,
To make it smile wholeheartedly again?


It looks at me with glassy eyes
As if asking for something that I have.
Where on earth are those keys,
That unlock the secrets of the cave?


Through the dark I reach for it,
Its little hand grabs mine silently.
Now I think I understand it;
The thing it wanted me to know so badly.


Long ago, in another past,
When skies were blues, and grass was green
And I was a child, playing in the dust,
It was my friend, and has forever been.


But now, today, I’m old and stupid;
I never saw what was missing inside.
I forgot about the puppet shaped as a cupid
That has always been by my side.


I look carefully at it again;
The smile I knew had returned.
And now, I bow my head in shame
Hoping time will be reversed.


I whisper to it in silence,
Telling it that I am sorry
And that it will forever be in a special place,

By my heart; So the puppet shouldn’t worry.

Eu printre Oameni

         Calator pe taramul visului, pribeag intr-o lume straina, voluntarul este cel ce face pasi nesiguri pe trotuar cu un suras pe buze ce doreste sa arate incredere si cu o dorinta arzatoare de exprimare stralucindu-i in ochi. Cu glas tremurand, sau cu un simplu gest, saluta persoane necunoscute doar pentru a se simti ca acasa.
       Cu ceva ca de artist in imbracamintea ce o poarta, merge pe strada fara tinta, si cu viziuni nemaipomenite trecandu-i prin fata ochilor.Lucrurile pe care cu timiditate si le-a inchipuit ca si scolar sunt inca acolo, deschise in fata lui. Hoinareste, pierzand noptile si    lasandu-se antrenat pentru a profita de ocazia primita ca sa-si indeplineasca visul. Tanarul lui trup, transformat dintr-un copil simplu intr-un adolescent cu un scop, se pierde in planuri si idei si se rasfata in parfumurile noilor locuri vizitate. Focul tineretii arde in el, si, melancolic, se plimba in cerc, schimband ganduri, prinvind fiecare particica din noul oras si simtindu-se ca in paradis in forfota strazilor si a magazinelor.
Priveste rasarituri si apusuri, asculta cantul pasarilor, compara culorile florilor si se bucura de fiecare clipa petrecuta pe strazi straine.
Cu emotia cu care un copil de 6 ani descopera un ultim cadou in spatele pomului de Craciun si cu motivatia similara unui elev ambitios ce doreste note mari, voluntarul este cel capabil sa isi schimbe caracterul doar pentru a face o persoana sa il inteleaga. Ajutat de ochii ce nu vad decat orizontul, garderoba colorata care seamana cu cea a unui clovn ce anunta venirea circului in oras, si privirea intensa ce te invita alaturi de el, voluntarul te atrage prin gesturi si povesti asa cum diamantele iti atrag atentia prin stralucirea lor unica. Vorbeste in general cu o voce dulce si catifelata ce poate topi inima oricarui muritor.
Pentru voluntar, orice obstacol pare doar o prapastie peste care trebuie sa treaca cu orice pret. El considera orice zid ca fiind o poarta spre un taram neexplorat. Pentru el cuvantul “nu’’ exista doar intr-un trecut indepartat. Pentru el “ieri’’ este diferit de “azi’’, chiar daca vechiul drum ramane acelasi, el considera ca nimic urat nu a ramas acolo, ci ca totul se infrumuseteaza cu fiecare clipa ce trece.
Voluntarul este ca o carte veche in care paginile ingalbenite de vreme se umplu cu inscrisuri care mai de care mai artistice si inspirate. Fiecare litera reprezinta un alt pas pe care acesta il face printre straini si fiecare punct este pentru el inceputul unei alte povestiri. Este de asemenea un artist abil, folosindu-se de pensula si acuarela pentru a colora desertul nepictat al oraselor necunoscute. Fiecare linie trasata pe panza vietii, il aduce mai aproape de finalizarea tabloului; fiecare culoare asezata cu maiestrie ii ofera noi raspunsuri, iar semnatura finala ii ofera un nou orizont si un nou inceput. El este ca un negustor ambulant, ce, inconjurat de praful drumului, striga pe strazi, peste muzica si sunetul masinilor, incercand sa atraga atentia multimii ignorante. Chiar daca stie ca ceea ce face poate provoca reactii atat positive cat si negative, chiar daca stie ca risca, motivatia si curajul nu il tradeaza. El tine capul sus si merge mai departe. Voluntarul nu doreste bogatii sau desfatari, ci doar sa isi exprime punctul de vedere, cu voce limpede si sa fie ascultat de societate.
Asemanator modului in care o persoana sta pe plaja asteptand fluxul si refluxul cu rabdare, asa voluntarul se descarca de emotie in fata grupurilor ce doresc sa il asculte si sa il ajute. Mai presus de onoare si reputatie, el pune dragostea pura pentru plaiurile straine si astfel izbuteste sa se faca ascultat.
Acest personaj este cel ce are o inclinare spre sacrificiu, cel ce considera orice fleac o parte din istorie ramasa in prezent, cel ce stie ca lucrurile pripite pot aduce regrete si cel ce odata plecat, lasa in urma o amprenta vesnica asupra locurilor vizitate si a oamenilor intalniti. Nimeni nu ii va ridica o statuie sau ii va face un portret dar cu totii ne vom aminti de acel voluntar care si-a urmat visul, a progresat si a continuat sa arate cat de bun este manjindu-si mainile cu uleiuri si culori incercand sa picteze tabloul omenirii. El este cel ce poate fi asemanat cu o oglinda veche. A vazut atatea mii de fete si lucruri si se poate bucura si mandri ca a retinut frumusetea lor o vesnicie. Este cel ce peste veacuri va mai avea inca niste lucruri de povestit, cel ce va avea mereu constiinta impacata stiind ca si-a urmat visul si ca probabil a ajutat niste oameni sa faca lumea un loc mai bun.
Dragostea fata de tot ce e nou si diferit l-a obligat sa plece departe, iar atractia sa  nu scazuse deloc si probabil nu se va stinge vreodata. Dar destinul si timpul s-au amestecat intre el si visul sau si astfel, momentul despartirii se apropie, iar voluntarul se intristeaza, la gandul ca va trebui sa se indeparteze de aceasta noua lume pe care a descoperit-o. Si totusi, plin de forta si bucurie, de sentiment si frumusete, voluntarul a plecat, dar nu la onesta sa familie ce il asteapta parca de veacuri, ci mai departe, inspre orizont, spre un nou inceput.

Legend of two stars

         This legend starts in a beautiful meadow where many fireflies like to live. They brighten up the night making the surrounding seem like a fantasy.
        One of those little sparkling creatures was a firefly named Joe. He was ordinary at first glance. He liked to dance into the night, he enjoyed the company of other fireflies, the jokes, the music nature offers and anything else. But deep down he had one little secret that no one knew about. Joe, our little firefly, was in love.
       Every night, he would silently sneak away from his friends and go deep in the forest, flying up to the highest tree; and there, hidden by darkness, he would look at his beloved; the highest star that could be seen. He was in love with that star that he named Jolie.
       It would seem foolish to many of you, but to Joe, this was a true fairytale. He wished hundreds of times to be near her, but she was too far. So, eventually, he coped with just seeing her and telling sweet words to her every night without expecting an answer.
This little romance between Joe and Jolie lasted for a long time; until that unfortunate day when humans came to the meadow with their gigantic metal things called cars, barbecues and other stuff. They didn’t consider harming nature for one second.
      When darkness came and fireflies wanted to come out and dance the night away, they saw that the humans didn’t leave the meadow. Several children noticed the fireflies and tried to catch them using nets or jars.
      Many fireflies fled so they wouldn’t be caught. Among them was also Joe. He was just about to escape when he saw that one of his sisters was in danger. He flew and saved her but unfortunately one of the kids stepped on him by accident. His last words were: “Good bye, Jolie! “
     When danger passed, Joe was found by his family and friends and they all regretted losing him. But they didn’t know, that Joe was actually happy. If any of them would have looked at the sky, they would have noticed that near Jolie, another star was shining brightly.
Joe had his wish come true and he was now going to spend eternity near his beloved Jolie.

Music Box

      I opened my eyes slowly. I didn’t know where I was or what happened to me. I looked around and I saw many pieces of metal, wood and material. The metal pieces were mostly shaped like the wheels of a clock, the wood ones were different sizes and they were painted mostly in pink or gold and the material was either pink, red or purple. I waited a while and got used to my surroundings when I was suddenly lifted up and put in a dark room which had a door above. It was like a box.
Darkness…That was all that I could see. I was locked in that room without any opportunity of getting out. I could hear noises from outside the box. The metal pieces were moved from place to place. 
Clicking…Knocking…And then a sweet sound. Was it a bell? No, it wasn’t that. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I knew that I was going to love that sound.
Then the door opened slightly letting the blinding light inside. I could see from the corner of my eye that someone else was now in the same room with me. 
The door closed and darkness filled the room again providing me from seeing who the new visitor was. The moment that beautiful sound could be heard again, the door above me opened completely. When my eyes got used to the light I looked around and found myself in a pink room with rose petals scattered everywhere. On my left there was a big mirror which allowed me to see how I looked. I was wearing a simple strapless gown of pale pink embroidered silk, with an asymetrical overpanel, revealing a less-heavily embroidered underskirt. My curly blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail and I was wearing a tiara with a small purple gem on top. It made me look like a real princess.
And then, another figure accompanied mine in the mirror. It was a boy, about my age. His short black hair and crystal clear dark blue eyes were stunning compliments, even though his eyes were covered by thin rectangular rimmed glasses. He looked at me and smiled.
The door closed again. I could hear that clicking and turning sound again. I realized that it was a lonely golden key turning the wheels from inside the box. One turn…Two turns….Three turns. The door opened and I was surrounded by that beautiful sound. I looked at the boy without knowing what to do. And then everything started with a simple question:
“ Can I have this dance? ” 
In that moment I was speechless, but I managed a nod and then I took his offered hand. 
That was how we first met. And since then we were always together. Every time the door opened and the song started, we would dance with passion until the music stopped.
One day, a little girl opened the door, and, as always, we started dancing. I looked from the corner of my eye at the girl and something intrigued me. I could see so much happiness in her eyes just by looking at us. I felt like I could fly in that girl’s dreams and stay there forever.
She suddenly closed the door and we were surrounded by darkness, but I could hear her voice.
“ Daddy, daddy! I want this for my birthday! It’s beautiful! “
“ Are you sure, sweetheart? “ her father asked.
“ Yes! Please, daddy! Pretty please! “
“ Ok! If that’s what you want! “
“ Yeey! “
And from that day on, every time  the door opened I could see that girl’s smile.
Years passed by and the little girl grew up into a beautiful teenager. I was seeing her often but her smile slowly disappeared with every repeating dance.
One night, she opened the door again, but those big blue eyes of hers were holding back tears. I wished I knew what was wrong. We decided to dance with more passion than ever so we would manage to cheer her up.
And guess what?! It worked! She smiled again, just by looking at us. I was so happy.
Situations like this happened for a while until that night came. The night that I still hate. On that night, she opened the door and we started to dance as usual. She watched us with the same sparkle in her eyes until the door suddenly closed and the box was lifted from its usual space. I could hear the girl's voice trying desperatly to make the intruder understand that the box was her most precious possesion.
" Please, give it back! Don't break it! Please, not the music box! " 
" Don't you think you're too old to have such a thing?"
The intruder was a little ten year old boy who liked to break any object that he considered unuseful.
" I promise I won't break it, but you won't see it ever again!
" Please, no! Not the Music Box!"
The girl's voice faded slowly as if the wind blew it away further and further. A few minutes later the music box was placed in a big old trunk. We stayed there and waited for the door to open again, for someone to happily await our dance, but this didn't happen; those blue eyes never looked at us with so much passion ever again. 
We waited...minutes....hours....years...until one day....one fortunate day, when we heard somebody opening the trunk's door and looking through it. A few minutes later the door opened and we started to dance as slowly and beautifuly as before. We were greeted by an old woman with a really happy smile. Her hair was like spider's silk, her wrinkles were like the waves of an ocean and it was like they were telling all the stories of her life. She had cristal clear blue eyes that were hidden behind a pair of old glasses. I only needed a second to look in those beautiful eyes to realise that she was actually the teenage girl that was so passionate about our dance. Her eyes lit up when she saw us and she looked at us the same way she had so many years ago.
She closed the door and started talking to someone.
" Look here, honey. This is one of my most precious possesions. I had lost it a long time ago and I really missed it. Now, I want to give it to you. If you listen carefully and you pay attention to the prince and princesse's dance you can understand their story and the story of all those before me who possesed it. "
" But, granny, are you sure you want to give it to me? It's so beautiful! "
" Yes, sweety, I'm sure. Open it! "
The door opened and we started to dance as usual. I couldn't wait to see who was our new friend. She was a little girl with large dark eyes and her wavy black hair was in pigtails. She was acting enthusiastic and she had the same sparkle in her eye as her grandmother had. We were pleased to know that we will be able to tell our story to another person as I told it to you know. So, next time you see a music box, don't forget to listen carefuly to it because you can hear many beautiful stories.


Just another story by me!

~ Drops ~

        Raining…I look outside the window. In every drop of rain I see a face. I wanna know more about it so I catch some of the drops. Hey, I can see the face again! But, why is it sad? 
I catch some more drops and I understand that I am that sad face. Tears rolled down and joined the rain drops. I realized that I was asking myself “ Why am I the drop of  oil in this world? Why can’t I be like tears? “ They are sad or happy at times but they can also be friends with rain drops and no one can see the difference.
But oil drops can’t do this. You can immediately spot them and remove them.  
They can’t be friends neither with the rain drops nor the tears.

But then… something came in my mind. At the beginning I saw myself in those rain drops. So there’s a part of me in everyone. Maybe it’s just me that can’t or don’t want to stay with them. Maybe it’s better as I am. Because, as years passed, I realized I have enough friends. Then why was I sad? Oh, it doesn’t matter, I’m hungry, Bye!


Another opinion by me! 

Time Travel

         I have been thinking for a very long time about how it can be to go back in time and change what is wrong; how you can see all the beautiful memories again and again without anybody telling you to stop; how you can remember all the times when you were happy, sad, lonely or loved again and again in a second.
What would it be like, if such a Time Machine would exist.
One day, I was sitting alone in my garden watching the sky and the sun coming down through the branches and I was thinking about all these things. Suddenly, I felt like I wanted to play the piano. I was home alone so I took the liberty of playing my mother’s piano for a bit. I played my favorite song from childhood Comptine d’un autre été – l’apres midi by Yann Tierson. I never knew what I liked about that song, but I heard my mother playing it so many times and I was always near her to listen to it. It reminded me somehow of my life, of my passions, of my way of living. This was the only song I knew how to play perfectly because it was the only one that reached my heart and soul.
I started to play it and as I was concentrating, the world around me started to change. I was still playing the song, when I saw that I was now in the middle of a living room where I could see a big Christmas tree, decorated with lots of colored globes and with a sparkling star on top of it. Near it I could see a little girl, with brown hair, big brown eyes and with the most beautiful smile I have ever seen that was looking at a white teddy bear she just received. When she touched the teddy bear’s paw, it started to sing and she was a bit shocked. But she started to laugh again and to look at her parents with so much happiness in her eyes that anyone would have smiled just by looking at her.
I closed my eyes and continued playing the piano. When I opened them I found myself in a classroom full of little children. Somewhere in the back, on a little chair, I saw again the little girl with brown hair from before, only this time I could see that she was a bit scared and she didn’t have the same smile on her face. When her mother wanted to leave her there with the teacher and the other children she started to cry and ran towards her mother saying that she doesn’t want to be left alone. Her mother calmed her and than left, leaving the poor little girl in an unknown world.
I continued playing and the background changed again. I was now in a small room, and I could see the girl, that was now older, staying on a couch. Near her it was a calendar on which it was marked near the date 15th October: My birthday. She was staying alone, crying, thinking that everybody forgot about her birthday. The clock on the wall showed 8 o’clock p.m. when her mother finally returned home and said that she was very sorry about being late. The girl said nothing, but looked at her with sad eyes. Her mother showed her some presents she had bought that day saying that she was sorry for not giving them to her earlier. On the girl’s face appeared the same extraordinary smile that she had when she was young. A smile that showed true happiness.
A tear went down my cheek while I was seeing this scene. Want to know why? Because all those events were actually my memories from when I was young. The little girl I saw was actually me in the past. Until then, I never knew I had such a smile. I haven’t seen it in a while because I have grown up and thought about other things. But when I was little and I had no worries that smile showed my true feelings. I was happy. I never thought I would ever see that smile again. But that day, that hour, that song I was playing reminded me of the past, of how I used to be. On that day I found out that there are not important the years in your life, but the life in your years.
And you want to know what else I found out? I also found out that you don’t need a time machine to go back in time. You only need to be yourself and to remember all those days using your heart. And a song might also help you sometimes.
A person of success is a person that can make a strong foundation with the bricks that others throw at him. I believe in this; and I found the true meaning of time travelling. You can find it too if you truly want to.
My name is Alexandra, and I wanted to tell you this touching story so you can remember the beautiful smile that you had when you were young and what you felt in those moments.
That is all for now.
An ending word?
Smile!


Just another opinion by me.