And I weaved

And i read one poem
after another;
several poems-
some about love,
some about dreams-
kept on reading,
one after another.
I was looking
for some loose
end of thread
somewhere;
to pick it
and weave something
in this thin air.
I weaved and weaved,
and somewhere,
it lost form and shape.
There were too many
loose ends;
lacking coherence,
some found it
as broken apart,
in pieces
and a few could see
what resonated
throughout.

Winter creeps through my window

A silent roll of waves,
winter creeps through
my window cracks.
I pretend to myself,
I am sleeping,
winter touches my toe,
climbs up
through my veins
freezes my blood
The moments,
frozen,etched
on my eyelids.
Once again,
the same streets,
the same restaurants,
the same people,
the same beggars,
the same songs,
the same books
once again, with you,
right here,
etched on my eyelids.