Travel and holiday seem to be such a dream as we have a new way of living. Waiting for the world to heal from the Pandemic and holding thoughts not to float but they want to go back in time to wander in the streets of Greece. Reliving the moments in hope and wishing for time to change, days to be full of sunshine and spring, hearts brimming with desires to capture these moments as if time pauses when nature embraces the disheveled minds and tired souls.Dreaming we can all enjoy the beautiful holiday destinations, sun, sand beautiful parks and the whole travel experience. Wrote this when I was away recently; few scattered words scribbled on memory lane
In the Streets of Greece, There are stones telling tales
Sculpted in forms that speak stories of the past, Stories infinite Echoes all crafted in stunning shapes, that holds time in stagnant form In the streets of Greece
I see flowers old pottery
Quirky pots that flourish pretty plants
Each leave entails the love of the creator
Each flower speaks the language of love
As the wind blows, loose hair flows on but I can’t take my eyes off in the street of Greece.
Fresh white linen and towels, clean crisp sheets of this old SPA
I think of him as I tell him ‘you owe me a few poems and few songs.’
He laughs and whispers gently’Ill figure out something my love’
Then I wish I see him in the streets of Greece.
I sat in the little coffee shop, My broken words tell the waiter I am a Gypsy, a wandering English girl. Soaking my past in these warm teacups.
And I write my thoughts in these distressed old papers which flows around in the streets of Greece.
That homeless man on the hilltop bench who was trembling with cold.
Had a piece of bread in his worn _out hands.
He wanted no comfort as I watched him so lost
staring in empty space, broken and lonely
In the streets of Greece