I have my wish list, hidden under the pillow,
reread in every deep sleep, memorized by day.
It’s much more than an old piece of paper
with crossed out words, silently vanishing.
some people exchange wishes for chances.
it makes thoughts materialistic, cold, and smooth.
how would it be to live breath to breath,
looks over the table with this aching urge
for a touch, to declare love by arranging letters
into words, like puzzles, lighting the room?
magic is in simple things, in the colors of your ties,
first flames in the fireplace, coffee cups
(mine is square, remember) , keys, promises,
twilights and dawns, in the way my hand fits
perfectly in yours, in today’s light,
in a memorized wish, so vivid under my eyelids.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem from a lovely poet! I have read some of your poetry, and I am amazed how easily you can project images from simple occurances. I love your poetry! A perfect 10!