One sheep, for the early morning breeze.
Two sheep, for all the faces we won’t ever know.
Three sheep, for the conversations taking place in the street.
Four sheep, for the spirits dancing between the crowd.
Five sheep, for the things we achieve.
Six sheep, for the things we lose.
Seven sheep, for the family waiting for us at home.
Eight sheep, for the true friends holding our hands.
Nine sheep, for the first smile of a thundering heart in love.
And ten sheep.
Ten sheep for the musicians that make souls sing, for the writers that make hearts break and the avid dreamers who fall but know how to get up again.
And until I get to the last sheep I’ll know that the road hasn’t come to an end and that I’ll have the opportunity to start the count again.
poison in my bloodstreams,
gas in the middle of screams,
shivers carried by silent beams.
toxic air in my lungs,
bitterness in my tongue,
horrors becoming young.
howling in the moonlight,
with dark knights.
measured with tears,
hiding gloomy cheers,
playing with the gears,
of my quivering fears.
He sits down and looks out his window, drops hit the window frame as it starts to rain. He stares at the mountains and can’t afford his thoughts. On one of the corners of the desk there is an envelope, it’s sealed. He tries to open it but fails, he doesn’t know who’s the sender or how did it ended there on top of his desk. The rest of the afternoon he uses different techniques to open the envelope but after some hours he gives up and tosses it in the trash.
He walks to his bedroom and closes the curtains, on top of his bed there’s a note. When he reads it, he hurries and look through the window. There he sees it, the envelope he couldn’t open drifting through the crowd, carried by the wind. He runs all the way down his buildings, under the rain and through the avenue. The envelope continues escaping from his hands until it’s out of reach, within each minute, there are more drops on it. A sad smile on his face, whispering goodbye and trying to explain himself why did that envelope had appeared and why was it finally gone. He would have to wait for the rain to ease, for his sunny days, beautiful prairies and dreamy sunrises to return timely inside a sealed envelope.
She used to travel by train every day, her days are busy and the train is the only moment she has to close her eyes. Sometimes she thought about taking a few days or going on vacation. No. It will not help her career. Trying to win a bet on time, she closed her eyes, not wanting to look how she approached to her stop. She never looked around, she thoughts that if she did, it will be a waste of time. Staying here in reality while time passes and laughs in front of her.
It all happened one of those normal days, ten minutes after she had close her eyes she heard the train’s wheels grinding just before a big din. Nothing else. Everything was quiet. For the first time since she used to travel in that train, she opened her eyes and looked out the window, speed, disaster, dust, snow. She shouted but no one could hear her, the train wasn’t going to stop. She smiled. Passing in front of her eyes, carrying wagons of memories. She was convicted to travel in that runaway train and it doesn’t matter how much she wanted it, how many things she tried on order to do it, she could never stop it.
She really needed those vacations, maybe a pause, a little jump in front of that train.
Taken from: url
Sorry for the wait, school has been very demanding lately and my writing has been stored in a drawer. The next week I’ll try to write and update more ❤