Note: I’ve been writing poems very casually for about 3 years. I just wrote what felt good, and didn’t look that much into techniques.

Shattered glasses and brokens dreams, the night has fallen, and the wind is cold.I watch the moon, and drink my tea, life wasn’t always full of misery. I once strode in the garden of flowers, and flew to the clouds and the tress. Felt the wind breeze by, a chilling feeling to calm my passionate heart, and I found peace. To a town, of red green and blue, flags waved, and people seemed happy. Azuer colored gems, and gem like eyes. I saw your face, I called your name. I told you tales, and you told me history. We watched the rainbows, we watched the time fly. We saw the birds soar, till we can’t see no more. The rain fell and blured my eyes, and blured my love, and blured my life. Hope was born, and hope was cared for, like a child, hope learned to cry, and hope wanted more, and hope wanted more. To give flowers in the morning, and make pasta for dinner, I did what I could; To learn new intruments at noon, and play them in afternoon, I was a bit tired but I tried; To build parks in the morning, and live castles in evening, hope was destorying my life. One fateful day, I stepped away, drove to the boulevard I first met you, the you that was kind, and the you that I loved, and the love that was simple. I waited for her, I waited the days, and I waited the years. And I waited till I stoped waiting, and I stoped waiting for you. Then life became dull, the skies became grey, and I became bored. I started thinking, and thinking I did some more. Years later, all has past, all has gone. But still, far away but in my heart, the place we used to be, the skies we used to soar. The feelings we first have still linger. That evening, I heard the news, and saw the pictures. The town is now gone in fire and war. Flags torn, gardens burnt to the ground, ashes create a grey world. Hope returned to my heart that day, and killed it’s self on the spot. After thinking and drinking and pacing around. I made a decision, that I thought was so profound. Lend me a rifle, sell me a suit. I’m leaving, to find you. And join you, whether dead or alive. In an old photo, I see those eyes, and remember the day, I said goodbye. I promise, I’ll find you, and bore you with my tales some more.