The scent, the feel, the touch-
No chance to wait that much.
Sincere, deep and strong-
No way to wait that long.
No need to be explained-
It’s all in blood and vein.
Much more than words can tell-
The charm and magic spell.
So pure and divine-
It couldn’t be confined
To scope of time and space,
The beauty, trait and grace.
As though has always been
Acute, astute and keen.
The sense, the look, the feel,
At times it seems unreal,
But glance of smoky eyes
Resembles paradise.
And somewhere deep inside
I know — this is my ride!

Sine cura animarum,
There’s no care, no concern
For the soul, would like to bar them
To the point of no return.
Always comes with certain easiness,
There’s not much that can be done.
They inherit it like business,
From the father to the son.
Deeply rooted in their being,
Rich in dosh, in spirit poor,
That is how they are used to living-
Careless always — sine cura.
Everything they can surmount,
New ideas always flash-
Is the profit all that counts,
Worshiped always is the cash.
World renowned is their direction:
Less to give and much to take.
By the luck and through connections,
There is always much at stake.
Though in luxury they dabble,
Think they are Allmighty God,
Certainly are plebs and rabble,
Destined to decay and rot.

Over the ocean, where you dwell,
Ugly the house is not.
Sad over blue dress you are and, as well,
Missing its small polka dots.
Something so special in past like a trap,
Though is confined to oblivion.
Sandals high heeled with a white leather strap,
Something you’ll learn with to live on.
Still in the centre the house, remains
Warm fire place in the hall.
Place where people had smile on their face,
And you were having a ball.
Memories flash some and come back again,
Touching yourself like a breeze.
Place where you’ve never had sorrow or pain,
Waiting for you willow trees.
Over the ocean, where you dwell,
Nice little house you’ve got.
Sad over blue dress you are and, as well,
Missing its small polka dots.

Crave you to the shivers down the spine,
Crave you to the goosebumps on the skin.
Scattered and dispersed in space and time,
Traces of the past is all there’s left for me.
Memories are drowning in the pain,
Stuck in them I am for no good reason.
Wish I could survive through all again,
Dreams of mine would not have been imprisoned.
Dignity is lost, is lost respect,
Nothing in the past could now be altered.
Nothing could be changed in retrospect.
Have to chose between a noose and altar.
Crave you to the shivers down the spine,
Crave you to the goosebumps on the skin.
Scattered and dispersed in space and time,
And dispelled are parts of you and me!

Sometimes it looks to not be real,
Some notions are so similar.
Distinguishing from rat a squirrel
Is advertising and PR.
Enhanced is package, same content,
So blurred is difference and thin.
Prefer to act and to pretend,
And things are not, what they may seem.
To change the meaning hard they try,
And try to alter it so much.
Distinguishing the truth from lie
Is packaging and final touch.
Though disappointing is all that,
As life has been from dawn to dusk.
But tell a squirrel from a rat,
Sometimes is really hard a task.