And if I wake up again
To the sound of a timid hope
To the breeze once in apricot trees
To the dripping a faucet has upon marbled sinks
I will find my old slippers
Upon which the dog slept all night
And push large wood panels to let in
What I have left away
What I thought time takes from us
But now I know it does not
For when I wake up to cardamom and warm bread
I know I never slept
For the springs on the old bed
Have also slept a quiet sleep
As the weight of dreams is only upon the memory
Of jasmine tea mornings and balconies of wood and
steel
… If I wake up again
To the warmth of a new hope
To the word which becomes a promise
That serenades me, which finds me and holds quietly
For a dear while
Then, I will welcome back
What I always kept in a space so alone
Will carry the warmth of a new morning
As I go barefoot to a simple balcony
When the apricot trees are about to flower
May 29, 2014
© Vahé Kazandjian, 2014
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