natalia remolina

humansofnewyork:

She asked if I wanted to hear a poem she’d written when she was younger. (At what age, she couldn’t remember) She then recited it from memory. I had her repeat it several times so I could get all the words right: 

Were I to dream,then dream I wouldof days that have gone by.Your eyes would gleamand so would mine,but joys remembered are no longer mine.I walk in a garden of memory,reliving the joys and the sorrows as well.I walk with a cane down memory lane,perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.Perhaps when my hair has turned to grayand my face is etched with pain,I’ll walk with a cane down memory lane.Perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.

humansofnewyork:

She asked if I wanted to hear a poem she’d written when she was younger. (At what age, she couldn’t remember) She then recited it from memory. I had her repeat it several times so I could get all the words right:
 

Were I to dream,
then dream I would
of days that have gone by.

Your eyes would gleam
and so would mine,
but joys remembered are no longer mine.

I walk in a garden of memory,
reliving the joys and the sorrows as well.
I walk with a cane down memory lane,
perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.

Perhaps when my hair has turned to gray
and my face is etched with pain,
I’ll walk with a cane down memory lane.
Perhaps there, joys remembered will remain.

humansofnewyork:

"The more times I fall in love, the less sure I am about love."

humansofnewyork:

"The more times I fall in love, the less sure I am about love."

Be a lover, not a fighter

Be a lover, not a fighter