For the first time 

She walked away from the blue chamber,on the floor, delicate petals danced upon sharp stones.  Quickly she reached the door, into the darkness embrace.In her hands, she held a promise,within an empty candy box's hollow,and a ticket, her gateway to a summer's spell.Determination through her veins,amidst a symphony of hushed whispers,passions ignited, a whirlwind of emotions unchained.Yet, as she embarked on the path of her youth,she glanced back and beheld,fireworks illuminating his adobe.She recalled the pair of green roses,nestled at the heart of the garden,and tears streamed down her face,a cascade of longing and fire,every gram of her soul.And for the first time,she felt love.

She walked away from the blue chamber,
on the floor, delicate petals danced upon sharp stones.  
Quickly she reached the door, into the darkness embrace.
In her hands, she held a promise,
within an empty candy box's hollow,
and a ticket, her gateway to a summer's spell.
Determination through her veins,
amidst a symphony of hushed whispers,
passions ignited, a whirlwind of emotions unchained.
Yet, as she embarked on the path of her youth,
she glanced back and beheld,
fireworks illuminating his adobe.
She recalled the pair of green roses,
nestled at the heart of the garden,
and tears streamed down her face,
a cascade of longing and fire,
every gram of her soul.
And for the first time,
she felt love.

Marco Crescenzi
Marco Crescenzi

I manage complex international programs in aerospace — and I write books. Poetry, fiction, and reflections on leadership and technology. Because the best leaders, like the best authors, know that every challenge is first of all a human story.

Articles: 38

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *