The phoenix
"And from the ashes a Phoenix rose - with wings made of gold
it gently touched me, a touch of relief. I was ready to start
a new circle, hoping it would never come to an end.
"Never too late for hope" - the grey ice melted - slowly..."
Spring
Where is my world,
The beggining of my life bound,
Surrounded by light,
Wandering aimlessly around.
Hearing voices calling my name
While I hover, world's dark stain.
Where is my summertime?
I'm longing for its warmth,
Far too long I shivered
In winter's icy force
Clouds are above me
Mid air caresses my lungs
I let myself drift, waiting for spring sun.
Soft grass - but it hurts to go over it,
Pointed stings - running between I stick