„ I wish I‘d loved you in better days.“
But would it have been love?
With the sun tickling skin unharmed yet?
With a glass of wine drowning words forgotten tomorrow?
With kisses unimportant, because they never were the last ones?
„Then, I wish I‘d loved in easier days.“
But would two souls have found each other, with no darkness pouring out?
Without a void to be filled with something not found yet?
Without skin to be healed with a gentle touch?
„I just wish I could have loved you“, my witch yells at the cauldron, now filled with train tickets, chocolate wrapping papers, and burned down candles and matches.
These are difficult days indeed.
My witching autumn desk
This was my longest quiet. My witch took a few weeks off. I have a lot of things to say, dark and urgent things! But my health made me pause everything. The first time in my life I’m saying that. I’ll be back in the next few days! Until then, enjoy the witching mood at…
Why do we stop doing things?
“When for health reasons we stop being ourselves, what is left then? ”, I complain to my witch just when the cold and dark season is ready to arrive. I am usually decorating a cake when the message I am dreading arrives. The pastry bag in hand, I read one cancellation after another. Of course,…
When we fall …
Who’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us all?Who’ll be thereIn the end? Late at nightI hear his voiceAnd I know thatHe waved her goodbyeThrough the noiseOf a world turning away. Laughter fromA window aboveBlurry lightsAnd I know thatShe gave upon loveRight there. And I wonderWho’ll be thereWhen we fall?Who will comeTo catch us…
Dear poet. The below lines will haunt us.
“But would it have been love?
With the sun tickling skin unharmed yet?
With a glass of wine drowning words forgotten tomorrow?
With kisses unimportant, because they never were the last ones?”
Took me a lot of falling down. I learn. Old love, need to be lessons. New love need to be new lullabies for us to create. We must be brave.
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Thank you for reading me, and thank you for your words! We must be brave, indeed.
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You are welcome, dear Mistress Witch.
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