Yes! Please write more! I'm so curious about this world of yours!

Ela, I don't think you're allowed to not pursue that coherent plot idea. 😉

Dear me! Maybe I shouldn't have said anything about it. 🙄 I think I shall continue with it, though some things I've written may be changed for continuity reasons. But, yes, I may have an entire story (or series...) for these two main characters. Which reminds me, my world has been hijacked by other characters again. 😛 But, since this is set more in the future than my past idea, it may work to have my other story be a part of the history. We'll see how this goes.
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Another poem! It's a sad one, sorry (not really). *points to Yiruma's 'Sad Love Story' (which is the reason for my poem's title) for giving me this depressing idea*:

Sad Love Story
I'm left now, only with my words, hollow,
just as this figure standing on trampled grass.
One more, one last, acid pill to swallow,
what cure is there for a pain that will not pass?

Such pain knowing.

I was not there.

I was not there to keep you close
in that one moment you needed me most.
I was not there to hold your hand,
the same I took, walking on the sand.
I was not there to stroke your brow
and remind you of our sacred vow.
I was not there to softly tell you
that all the love I had was true.

I was not there.

I was not there and I could have been.
Such thoughts taunt my wounded heart.
Remembering all that we've seen,
And realizing we will now be apart.

I'm left now, only with my words, hollow,
just as this figure standing on trampled grass.
In such darkness is there hope to follow?
What cure is there for a pain that will not pass?

Whoa. I think Yiruma himself would be proud. 🙂

O.O That's great, Ela. And sad. 🙁 😛

Thanks Ariel and Gyps. 🙂

Here's another piece I wrote. It's personal and touches on what I'm going through right now:

The Raindrop and the Ray

Have you ever seen the sun shine its brightest in the midst of a downpour? The rays of light pass over the clouds and touch each droplet of rain, comforting them in their journey to the terrifying new world below. The sun's warm steady glow and the cloud's cool vulnerable drops intermingle in that moment: the secure and the unsure find a way to share that same space.

I'm both that confident ray and insecure drop of rain.

New chapters are exciting, new places too, but when the life you've always known will be left behind – things become muddled. Yes, I'll meet people, perhaps even make a friend or something more; I'll learn things I'll never have learned, see things I'll never have seen, but with such gains there will be loss.

My world here can't be packed in a cardboard box, shipped along the road with my other belongings. No, it must stay here, untouched by me. It must stay here with those familiar street signs I'd pass on same routines, those memories tucked away in my grandmother's yard, those newspapers with the neverchanging name, the schools I've attended in my not-so-distant past, those old libraries I visited from the time I could read, those flowers alongside the road I always wondered at, that old bell tower in the museum I loved, the chime of school ringing the students in and out, the churches I've been to those Sunday morns, that one sunrise and those hidden stars. Family too, my dear extended family, won't be coming with me. They'll stay here, snug as they have always been, while I go on ahead.

“There will be so much opportunity,” I say to myself again and again. I know it's true, and it keeps me going, that warm ray. The cold rain reminds me, “There will be so much to lose.” I know it's true, and I won't deny it.

There is a frightening uncertainty as I fall down to this new earth, but through each, the raindrop and the ray, I'm learning to take my loss with my gain. I can't ignore everything I'm losing, nor do I want to, and I can't look ahead without seeing the light shining above me. There is something beautiful happening here as my insecurity and assurance weave themselves in a mixture of water and light to form something new: a coloured bow in the sky, a sign of hope and of promise.
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So yeah, my life story at the moment. It's really sinking in now that I'm leaving everything, and leaving it forever... which never felt so close as it does now.
In other news, if you haven't noticed already, I'm trying to have something written everyday. It's something I've been wanting to do and I find that there is time for my brain to be actively occupied at night, so I will try to keep this up for a while. (If I do happen to forget to write something, a reminder would be greatly appreciated. 🙂 )

That's so beautiful, Ela. 🙂

*hugs*

Thanks, Jaygee. *hugs Ariel back* Thank you.

A very lighthearted poem inspired by my cat/kitten (she's almost 11 months):

Dear Margie,

Dear, my little, tiny cat
Why is it that you squeak
when you drop by for a chat?
What is it that you seek?

I hear no simple meows from you,
like most normal felines.
Instead I get an “eeeh” or “ooh”.
Not like other cats of mine.

You're such a silly thing
as you stand up on hind paws,
while insisting you can sing
just to get some “awwww”s.

I'll never get a real cat's meow
unless, somehow, you grow.
But that's a thing to doubt for now,
unless there's something I don't know.

Still, I love my cat who's small,
with her almost-meow like peep
She's the sweetest one of all,
And she's one I want to keep.

Awwwwwwwwww! That's sooooo cute!

AWWWWWWWW!!! That is so totes adorbs! I love your poetry. O.O

Thanks Jaygee and Gyps. 🙂 Margie is the perfect inspiration for 'cute'.
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Just a very short story for tonight:

Thea sneaked out through the back door and no one noticed. It was nice to be away from the other party-goers, to catch her breath after a breathless night of courteous talk and endless dancing. It wasn't particularly cool outside, but she felt a soft breeze brush the hair from her face and the feeling sent her soaring. There were no chairs, but she didn't mind, she decided to lean against one of the beams to support herself. She knew not a single soul there, except her mother, but she was off talking with the other ladies, so she wasn't worried anyone would come out and ruin her well-deserved peace.

Everything looked beautiful from where she stood, and when she saw the stars emerge, and the silver crescent of a moon stand out against the sharp silhouettes of trees and houses, she knew she wasn't cut out for a lavish life. Who would want diamonds when the most beautiful of all gems were displayed in the sky for all to see? Certainly most people she knew. Especially that Mr Hartmann back home. If responding to his letter with a 'yes' meant living such an extravagant life, without a trace of love, she didn't want it. And if that meant she would stay a 'spinster' for the rest of her years she would cling to the title happily. She wanted nothing more than to be content, and staring up at the beautiful sky, alone, she was.

Ooh, I like, Ela!

Prettyful. Way to go, unnamed girl! 😀

Thanks Jaygee and Ariel! 😀

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In the corner of the old library down the road, there rests a box. It doesn't look like anything special, just a plain wooden box covered in dust and closed tight by a rusty metal lock. The only thing different about it is the word written across the side (which is barely legible now): “remember”. It sits there waiting for someone to find it. Chances are you never noticed it those times you checked out a book. Don't worry, no one else has either. That was his intent.

You see, my great-grandfather wanted to be sure that whoever found the box was extremely observant and perceptive. He liked those traits in a person, always told me so - I guess that's why he made the box the way he did.

I actually remember, all those years ago, when he crafted it in the garden, away and out of sight from any windows. But he let me watch. I saw the veins running in his arms and was afraid that the slightest bit of wind would topple him over – it didn't. He still knew how to work with his hands, and he was proud to do it. He sawed the pieces of wood and proceeded to cut them into particular shapes, so that they'd fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. After that, he screwed in the hinges and put on the lock. By the time he was finished with it, (he started right after breakfast), it was dark out and we could hear the crickets chirping away in the grass and feel the chill of the a breeze passing through. The lights of the house were on and he took it inside as I trailed behind him. I didn't see it again. That is, until he died.

It was his last request that I, his only granddaughter, would place it in the place he loved most. The library. He didn't want any of us, his family, to look inside. I never understood why but I'm sure there was a good reason. He always had a good reason for everything he did. Still, I don't know what treasure is hidden in that box. Maybe, one day, someone else will.