How many times do we stay floating in shallow waters... Thinking: This is all there is.

When will we be able to love a little bit more, and judge a little less. Why?

Petals are touching our face,  flowers' scent is invading us, the sunrise is smiling at us, but we are angry about the waves that interrupt our "tranquil" times.

Resting in the shallow pond,
the wind impregnates
me of a special flower’s
scent…

Rolling petals,
touch my face,
it could have
been a new start,
but I didn’t dare.

Why did I let
the bright
colors fade?

Why did I forget
the prominent
thunders of fate?

The water keeps flowing,
under my skin,
it may be I am akin
to lightweight baggage,
but somehow I can’t see
beyond my coat.

Resting,
I find out,
it is you,
who I want;
it is you,
who I am;
it is you
who touches
my face
as I breathe.