A song of love and hope

What if two people, together
yet in different worlds,

One world of gentle breeze
caressing sun-ripened fruit,

And one of cool mist
that veils the rising moon,

In those worlds, together
wrote a song of love and hope?

The words would surely be
the ones their hearts would write.

Image by Dimitri Houtteman from Pixabay

In A Million Years

I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That you would come
And bring me flowers.

I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That there could be
A love like ours.

I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That we would meet
In body and mind.

I would never have dreamed
In a million years…
Is this dream real,
Are we entwined?

To Love Again

Emotional drought,
Thirst of the heart.
Hope dies, clouds gather
When there is no love.

Yet from those clouds
Rain is coming.
Let it wet your skin,
Be cleansed, love again.

 


 

Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.

Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer.

Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story now for just 99p/99c!

Coffee In Castillo Book

First Date

This is pointless
Such hope isn’t right

This is endless
Waiting for tonight

This is silly
Butterflies and fear

This is absurd
Choosing what to wear

This is foolish
Pretending he’ll be mine

This is crazy
I say it every time

The Child Inside

He called me
This morning,
Come out to play.
I’m lonely
And need a friend.

He called me
This morning.
The child within
Is lonely,
She wants to play.

He called me
This morning.
I let me go,
Allowed myself
To play outside.

He called me
This morning.
The child within,
Not lonely,
Has found a friend.

For the friend I have yet to meet.

His Folly

Cannot abide his folly,
Another promise broken.
Cannot abide his folly,
Alone to cry again.

How can a man be worthy
Of beauty, heart and soul?
How can a man be worthy
Of love and passion deep?

When you make your choice,
Remember what you did.
When you make your choice,
Don’t make me cry again.

For my muse, with love.

Love’s Burden

I lift weights.
To look good,
To feel well.

I lift weights.
To be strong,
To carry on.

I lift weights.
To put down,
To feel light.

I lift weights.
Am I strong?
Am I light?

I lift weights.
With empty hands,
With empty heart.

I lift weights.
Each year’s day,
Each day’s hour.

I lift weights.
Of my losses,
Of my dreams.

The Day Before You Came

I must have made coffee
At half past eight that day,
Then read the news by nine o’clock,
The weather forecast too.
It surely rained as always,
The day before you came.

I must have breakfasted at ten o’clock
Washed flakes with cold, white milk.
At eleven pushed myself,
With exercise, weights or something else.
Played music, cleaned the house,
The day before you came.

At twelve or so, I just don’t know,
Perhaps I watched the rain.
After that I must have checked
The faces on a dating page.
Of course they never changed,
The day before you came.

I must have lunched at one o’clock
And lunch for one it was.
At two I cleared my paperwork,
I hate to fall behind.
All done and in its place,
The day before you came.

I must have started writing
At three o’clock or so.
This poem, maybe more,
I wrote of love of course.
I’d forgotten how it feels,
The day before you came.

At five o’clock or soon beyond,
I’m certain that my work was done.
I must have made my evening meal,
Nothing special, much the same.
Then watched TV an hour or two,
The day before you came.

I must have gone to bed at ten,
I never stay up late.
The only voice a spoken book,
Another chapter of the same.
And yes, I’m sure I felt a sense
Of living without aim.

The day before you came.


Inspired by The Day Before You Came © 1982 ABBA

Single Beds

The cicadas chirped
As evening cooled.
In single beds we called
“Come here.”
Together we dreamed,
Our ways entwined.

Cicadas still chirp
As evening cools.
In single beds we call
“Goodnight, dear”
And turn over to dream
Our separate ways.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

On Our Honeymoon

On our honeymoon
We took a pedalo
Across the water,
Pedalling together
In time and in love.

I stand on the beach
And watch a pedalo
Across the water,
They move together
In time and in love.

He turns to her
Then laughter comes
Across the water,
Lapping cold at my feet
And I am alone.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

Waiting For You

Restless in body and restless in mind,
Waiting to hear words from you.

I know why it happened and what I did wrong,
Jumped in, defences too few.

Addiction was fast and I did not resist,
Withdrawal a cruel retreat.

Uncaring, heartless, you think you are strong,
Silence reflects your conceit.

Walking to wash out your drug from my head,
Waiting to hear words from you.

I Look For You

I look for you, where are you now?
I seek your face, repeat your name.
Intelligent, a man with flair,
With skilful touch but selfish game.

A handsome face that let me down.
I can’t hate you, my fault I’m lonely
A complex man, so special, rare.
You’re still my favourite “if only”.

I Was Ready

You’re gone and yet still here,
Infusing my thoughts.

You’re silent and yet you speak,
Leaving my goodbye unanswered.

You’re gone and yet I see you,
A face of sorrow, one single tear.

You’re strong and yet too weak
To change your ways for me.

You’re gone and yet unknowing,
I was ready to say I love you.

Looking for inspiration? That’s what your muse is for!

Tonight He Broke My Heart

He broke my heart. No, he did not.
I was the one who let him do it.

He asks me to stay. I want to go.
I am the one who is hurt.

It could be different. So wonderful.
But instead it burns inside.

I let him come in. Let him get close.
Allowed him to hurt me.

My eyes burn. Heart of pain.
My head says run away.

No promises from him. No matter.
Even his words cannot be trusted.

I wait for night to come. To pass.
To sleep away my goodbye.

The night comes. With the tears.
Thoughts of the man who does not care.

What is next? What should I do?
The same thoughts again and again.

I let him come in. Let him get close.
This mess is of my making.

Armour on. Defences up.
This will never happen again.

Lesson learnt. Smarter now.
But tonight he broke my heart.

Words from the heart of my muse.

Enwrapped In Love

I step from the shower and he is there, watching.
Smiling inside as fragrant water drips,
I wiggle just a little bit as if to shake it off
And turn around, bending for the towel.

He exhales noisily and I pretend not to hear,
Still smiling inside I turn to face him.
Now the towel is around my shoulders,
It moves over me and he is spellbound.

I wrap my breasts from view, his gaze lowers.
The towel follows it down, his mouth is open.
Oh what power I wield with the flick of cloth!
I lift it to dry my hair, he rises to my command.

The towel is around me again, he steps forward.
Face lowered, my eyelash gaze speaks silently.
I feel strong arms around my shoulders,
He kisses my face, his hands explore.

I press against him, hot inside the towel.
His lips are on my neck, I gasp at his power!
The towels falls softly away
And I am enwrapped in his love.

I Lied

I lied.

Lied to myself
When I said he loved me.

Lied to the world
When I said I was happy.

Lied to my diary
When I said it was good.

Lied to my heart
When I said it was right.

Lied to my soul
When I said he was mine.

Lied to him too
When I said I loved him.

I lied.

Two Years Of Love

ONE

I hold my glass,
Sitting on the bench.

A review of the important things:
Lovers, conflicts, mistakes, regrets.

It’s summer solstice, the longest day.
Last year I had hope.

I lift my glass
And realise this is the low point.

TWO

I hold my glass,
Sitting on the bench.

A review of the important things:
Lovers, friends, success, satisfaction.

It’s summer solstice again.
Last year I had no hope.

I lift my glass
And realise that my life is good.

Meet Me At The Tea Shop

Meet me at the tea shop
Where you stand and choose
From endless rows of exquisites,
Things that they call tea.

You couldn’t dream the brews they do,
Hot or iced for twice the choice.
Fruits and herbs, vanilla too,
Blended in unexpected harmony.

We sit together at the back,
Exchanging gossip, glasses raised.
One hot, one iced and both delights,
Things that they call tea.

We talk about the things we love,
Our different worlds connected.
One hot, one iced and both delights,
Friends in unexpected harmony.

Arthur Is My Cat

A poem for kids and grown-ups too.

Arthur is his name,
Endless cheer his game.
His smile is very wide,
It warms me up inside.

Each day when I get up
He’s waiting with his cup.
It overflows with joy,
There’s no more cheerful boy.

I’ve coffee in my mug,
He’s waiting for a hug.
I drink until it’s gone,
While smiling he looks on.

The only mouse
That’s in my house
Sits by him near,
Mouse without fear.

His eyes are small,
His tail is tall.
He looks at you,
You must smile too.

More I could write,
No end in sight.
But dreadful verse
Is best kept terse.

Arthur is my cat,
And that’s the end
Of that.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

A New Chapter

Inspired by a scene from Coffee In Castillo

Back on the street side,
Into sunlight’s warm caress.
At once feeling unhurried,
Time to have coffee.

Round tables in a little café,
Hugging under bright umbrellas
That flap and fuss
In hazed summer breeze.

This Spanish afternoon
Is late, with empty chairs
Except one man.
She hadn’t noticed him.

Her eyes compelled.
Lifting a cup to drink
He moves, a subtle glance.
Does he see her?

Looking down she hides,
Demurely watches his hands.
One holds an open book,
The other finds a slim cigar.

He turns to face her,
Sunglasses lifted.
Intelligent eyes light
A well-tanned face.

He says hello.
Embarrassed gasp,
Her reply fumbles
An apology, brushed aside.

His smile disarms,
She sits with him.
Small talk starts
A new chapter.

She’s Beautiful

She’s beautiful
But he can’t see.

Soulful eyes,
Her face delight.
Honeyed voice
Of caramel.

Confident yet sensitive,
Knows her mind
And stands her ground.
I can see she’s beautiful.

He sees her eyes
But not her soul,
Hears her words
In monotone.

He’s brazen and insensitive,
Can’t know her mind
Or share her world.
Unfulfilled she waits.

He takes her when
He’s minded to,
Neglects her love
In days between.

She’s beautiful
But he can’t see.

Connected

I take his hand, pull him close,
Hug him, ask for more.

I’m feeling very huggy today,
I tell him and his eyes smile.

I have to go now, he says,
You can have lots of hugs later.

His hand slips from mine,
Yet we are still connected.

The Wind Blows

The wind blows over England.

Clouds, dark, threaten the land.
Rain falls, the people hide.

The wind blows over England.

Clouds part, tear open ragged blue.
Sun warms, the people smile.

The wind blows over my world.

Clouds, dark, threaten me.
Rain falls, miserable I hide.

The wind blows over my world.

Clouds part, tear open lighting me.
Love comes, I smile again.

I’m Going For A Walk, He Said

I’m going for a walk, he said.

The usual route? I asked.
I don’t know, but probably.
Thank you, see you soon.

What did he thank me for?
Sharing my home, a place for him,
A refuge when he’s lost.

He shares my home but not my bed,
Breaks away from my embrace.
I am the fool, I am the clown.

I guess he’s halfway round by now.
Walking through the woods,
Listing all my faults aloud.

Do I really want him back,
For loveless hugs and soulless chat?
Perhaps he won’t return this time.

I’m going for a walk, he said.

Rambling, twisted and tortuous thoughts,
painful to think, tough to read.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

You’ll Come To Me

I need something to focus on,
In the future, not too long.
I dream of love, wait for the one
To keep me going, make me strong.

The precious years are passing me,
But I’m not wishing time away.
I live alone, no-one to see,
I could just book a holiday.

Imagine two weeks in the sun,
I’ll write it in my diary.
Beach and pool with night-time fun,
Perhaps by then you’ll come to me.

He Waits For Me

I watch TV, he waits for me.
I want to be back there.

I send a message on my phone,
I might be coming round.

I can’t be sure, I have to wait,
Is that ok with you?

Of course it is, he lies barefaced,
Come over when you can.

I hate to keep him holding on,
It’s such a silly game.

I wish the demons wouldn’t fight
A war waged in my head.

They tie me down with ropes unseen,
He must not see my shame.

I watch TV at night and wait
To go back there again.

A companion piece to Waiting For Him.

Waiting For Him

I watch TV and wait for him,
Maybe he’ll come tonight.

The actors move and speak in turn,
It’s clean and tidy, no mistakes.

A message on my phone tells me
He might be coming round.

He can’t be sure, he has to wait,
Is that ok with me?

Of course it is, I lie barefaced,
Come over when you can.

Real life is never clean and tidy,
No-one waits in turn.

It’s messy and confusing,
I am powerless in this game.

So I just watch TV at night
And wait for him to come.

A companion piece to He Waits For Me.

 

Time To Reflect

Allow yourself time to reflect,
A chance to review your world.

It doesn’t matter where you are,
Or who might be watching.

They cannot hear your thoughts,
Or perceive your desires.

No-one is a mind-reader,
Despite what they might wish.

On the train the world slips past,
It passes by your window.

Life is your journey,
A dream passing before your eyes.

Remember as you travel
The ones you love, the ones you lost.

Allow yourself a chance,
While there’s still time to reflect.

The Tale Of The Odd-Legged Goat

She once heard that the mountain goat
Has longer legs on left or right.
To make life easy on the slope,
It isn’t true, not even might.

She also heard it’s winter time
When flu attacks and weakens you.
Although she fell for that old line,
Odd-legged goats are just as true.

Listless, fevered, feeling blue,
Headache matched by her sore throat.
She now believes in summer flu,
But not odd legs on some old goat.

Your Perfect Lover

Imagine your perfect lover.

Let’s start with the basics, shall we?
Height first. Let me guess… taller than you.
Dark skin. Mmm, that’s always romantic.
Picture his body, make it as you like.

Now look up into his eyes.
Are they green, brown or blue?
You are the conjurer, creating your fantasy.
Colour his hair, hear his voice, smell his skin.

Your shopping list is complete.
Tonight he walks into your life.
Taller than you, dark skin, just like your dream.
You imagined this man and now he’s here.

Talk to him, watch him, feel him.
Now tell me, is he really what you want?
Doubt creeps in, the fantasy fades.
I think you forgot some things.

You never said he should be intelligent,
A practical man, caring and creative.
Confident, sensitive and considerate.
It’s time to start again.

Now imagine your perfect lover.

Hot new summer romance, out now!

Coffee In Castillo eBook Cover

Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.

Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Explore shady streets on breathless afternoons, sit with Lewis under a star-lit evening sky. Share Abbey’s hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.

Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story right now for just 99p/99c!

Enjoy Coffee In Castillo on your Kindle, or use your iPad, iPhone or any Android device simply by grabbing the free Kindle app.

This Is You

Stubborn life, poverty rooted
In crumbling rock and sand.
Fierce and thorny to survive,
Waiting for the rain.

Love comes, thorns do not defend.
Beauty flowers, blushing pink
In ephemeral, fleeting delight.
Revel now, for this is you.

Rain Of The Heart

Merciless drought, cruel, uncaring
Drying, dying, despairing

An unforeseen downpour of rain
Rescued from drought once again

Rescue will come with a start
Love is the rain of the heart

I hope you enjoy the many subtle connections made here.
Even I had to read through it several times to see them all – and I wrote it!
Shona.

His Heart Is Her Haven

She holds him at midnight.
Suffused in love,
Drifting into sleep.

Drifting into sleep,
Safe in the harbour
Of his protection.

The day is no longer young.
From a dream she awakes,
Nothing has changed.

Nothing has changed,
He’s still there.
His heart is her haven.

Valium And Vodka

She’s crying at midnight.
Sick with loss,
Crying for sleep.

Crying for sleep,
The only way out
Is valium and vodka.

The day is no longer young.
Sick with tears she awakes,
Nothing has changed.

Nothing has changed
And all that’s left
Is valium and vodka.

Let Me Show You Something

Sorry it’s rather dark in here.
I’ve opened the curtains
But it’s always raining.

What’s that you tell me?
You remember this place.
Hasn’t changed much, has it?

No, things don’t change,
They just fade a little
And the loss remains.

You can’t change anything here.
Leave the door ajar, visit any time.
This room is your past.

 

It’s brighter in here.
See, hear, touch.
Details fill your senses.

What’s that you ask me?
Of course you can move things,
You are in control here.

Change what you like.
Choose new colours
For your pleasure, your delight.

This is where you live.
Leave both doors open.
This room is your present.

 

Be careful where you step,
There could be anything here
And I don’t want you to get hurt.

Why are you surprised?
Everything keeps moving
and you haven’t touched a thing.

This is hope, anticipation.
A dream where you decide
What will happen next.

Open the curtains,
Dawn is breaking.
This room is your future.

Do You Believe In God?

Well, do you?
I’m waiting.
Yes or No?

Relax, it’s OK if you can’t answer with just a single word. This is a tough question! No wonder that it’s been asked since the time of the ancients. Instead of asking for a simple black-and-white binary answer, let me ask you three more questions. Perhaps they will give you pause for thought.

Do you ask God for things? Maybe you ask for help in difficult times, companionship when you are engulfed by loneliness, healing when you are unwell.

Do you blame God when things go wrong? Think about this one for a moment. Recall a loss, a failure, a catastrophe that recently befell you.

Do you thank God for the good things? For the friends that are there when you need them, for success at college or in your career, for safe passage in a difficult journey?

By the way, I’m talking about your God. Whether you love Torah, Qur’an or Bible, no matter. Whatever your faith, this is your God and it’s the God.

You’ve had a few minutes to ponder my three questions. Need, sorrow, gratitude. These cover just about everything that touches your life. I won’t pry any further. Yes or no, please just remember that life is a difficult journey, one that is best travelled with a companion. I wish you shalom, salaam, peace.

See The Little Things

I was washing the dishes. This time amongst the usual foamy confusion of bubbles there was something small yet special, a beautiful cluster of tiny bubbles arranged near-perfectly. In this moment I saw that it’s the unexpected little things that really matter.

Has your love ever sent you a message just to say that he still loves you, that he cares about you? Perhaps you’ve had a wordless message, his head briefly resting on your shoulder, his hair tickling your face. Such gestures might seem tiny, even insignificant. Don’t dismiss them, see the little things.

You Think It’s Over

You think it’s over
But you’re wrong.
Your eyes light up,
You are still strong.

Your brilliant mind
Is still alive.
Don’t waste your years,
Recall that drive.

I see your light
And know you’re strong.
You think it’s over
But you’re wrong.

 

With gratitude to my muse,  whose love and light sustain me.

For A Moment

The clouds parted for a moment.
Sunlight through the window,
Hope swept across my world.

The clouds parted for a moment.
Laughter lit his eyes,
His smile called my heart.

The clouds parted for a moment.

 

 

Time Has Written On Your Face

Time has written on your face
Every story, every graze
Time is written in your eyes
All the wrongs and all the rights

Don’t shut me out, I won’t let you down
There’s no need to keep it all inside

Whenever your world suddenly comes down
When all your hopes and dreams are gone
When silence swallows your every thought
When you get lost in the dark, I’ll be your dawn

“Your Dawn” Lyrics © Solis & Sean Truby w. Ultimate & Stine Grove

Gali Clocks


Time, the most precious commodity. Every day there’s a choice for you to make.

You can have money again but you can never have that time again. Choose wisely.

Shona x

 

Cafetería de la Luz

Abbey parked the little white hire car on the boulevard. It was spring, before the crowds of summer families filled Castillo, and there was still plenty of space. Across the road, a row of shops and cafés faced the sea. Abbey crossed and walked a little way along. Café tables, round, simple and encircled with empty chairs, sprinkled the pavement. Abbey entered the first café that she reached.

‘Hay servicios?’ she asked the waiter. Her Spanish was terrible, she had just memorised a few words and phrases really. Still, it was enough to ask crudely for the bathroom. When she came back out into the sunlight she was feeling considerably less hurried. Impulsively, she decided to have coffee. It was a very small café, with maybe half a dozen tables set out under colourful umbrellas that flapped and fussed in the warm breeze. She sat down at one of the empty tables and ordered her drink.

It was late in the afternoon and around her the other tables were empty, except for one man. She hadn’t noticed him when she hurried in. She sat back a little and tried to watch him without being noticed. He lifted a cup to drink, turning slightly towards her. Had he seen her? She could not turn away now, that would be too obvious. Abbey’s eyes drifted down to his hands. In one he held an open book. A trickle of blue smoke rose from a slim cigar in the other.

The adventure is only just beginning…

A Mediterranean Night

Two men stood at the bar. Convivial chatter rose and fell behind them, peppering them with women’s voices that bubbled and shrieked. The door to Cafetería de la Luz was propped open, jammed in position by a hand-sized wedge of wood. The ancient timber chock was bruised and beaten. Every edge and corner of it had been rounded off by the daily battering that was its only reward for a life of lowly service. Chirping cicadas hid amongst the tired remains of summer leaves out on the boulevard, each still calling forlornly for a mate. Their rasping tones, the ever-present sound of the Mediterranean night, stole uninvited into La Luz. Lewis drew on a cigar and the tip of the leaf-brown stick glowed orange. The smoke curled away, escaping to join the noisy insects under the warm blanket of another southern night.

Coffee In Castillo is out now!

The Artist In The Street

The clouds parted and drew back to the mountains. They revealed the cleanest black sky, washed, cooled, purified by the evening rain. The town of Castillo, a maze of contrast between deep shadow and bright electric light, stood crisply outlined. Everything was wet and fresh, renewed and reborn, ready to face the fair temper of the brief Spanish winter. The eaves dripped and splashed down into puddles. Rivulets trickled into drains, carrying away the dust of summer.

A folded umbrella leaned against an artist’s easel, together forming geometric triangles with feet set securely on the paving stones and tips pointing at the white pinpricks of stars above. Across the plaza, the rectangles of the store windows transformed late shoppers from coloured figures with faces and eyes into the blank forms of dark silhouettes as they passed. A night-time mirage of textured lights and distorted shapes was coarsely mirrored in the wet streets…

Coffee In Castillo is out now!

Your Love Story

You’re looking for someone
Who sees within,
Doesn’t care about your past
Or how thin you wish you were.

Love doesn’t care about those things.
It sees within,
Finds dreams in your eyes
And feels the warmth of your skin.

This Is My Rose

This is my rose.
Last week it wasn’t there. Last month the bush was bare.

This is my world.
Last week I danced in the rain. Last month was filled with pain.

This is my heart.
I could give it to you. Would you remain true?

 

Remember The Good Times

Remember the good times.

He came to haunt this morning
And I cried for all the pain.
The fall-outs and fights,
Lies and deceits.

He loved me a lot.
I kept all his gifts,
Not just jewellery and clothes
But memories too.

Laughing as one in strange countries,
Cicadas by the window as we slept.
Creating precious children
Whose voices I still hear.

Remember the good times.

 

 

A Different World

Things change. Life changes.

Yesterday, pretty artist Abbey was married. Today she is single. What will happen tomorrow? The same boring job, surely. Night after night in the tiresome company of her lazy, bickering teenage son and her grumpy, ageing mother. Loneliness under the miserable grey skies of England.

Tomorrow comes and Abbey is right, but only just. She still has that dull job but could not have guessed that it would take her on a business trip to Spain. And how could she have anticipated meeting charming expat writer Lewis there? Suave and handsome, Lewis lives in a different world. His realm is filled with light, warmth and passion. Is there room for Abbey in this place? Could this be her last chance in love?

Things are changing, quickly. Driven by her desire for love, seduced by sunlight and Lewis’ emerald eyes, Abbey braves the challenges of a strange country. She finds herself drawn inexorably deeper into his world. Compelling and charismatic, Lewis is irresistible yet unreachable. The lines of love are drawn in the sand and the battle to capture his heart begins.

Join Abbey in this heartening, nimbly-paced romance. Share her hopes and fears, her sorrow and joy. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer. Laugh with the locals in a little café, mingle with colourful fiesta crowds, walk with Abbey along a lonely seashore.

Will Abbey win Lewis’ love? Can her dream become reality? The answers lie in the sultry world of Coffee In Castillo.

By The River

In the place by the river
We talked for hours.
The others left
So we were alone.

His green eyes caught mine,
Easily I trusted them.
My story spilled out
Along with the tears.

Lost dreams from the past,
Despair for the future.
He took my hand
As I fumbled apologies.

Don’t say you’re sorry,
His green eyes smiled.
We talked for hours
In the place by the river.

 

A Lost Dream

Abbey was always daydreaming. Her mind left the office and slipped away from the grey English skies. It escaped to hot, sunny places where palm trees grew and there were no folders full of papers to analyse. She used to paint beach scenes when she was younger, fantasy-like sunsets reflected in gentle seas whose waves kissed the golden sand. Relax, you’re in Spain now. Half an hour is nothing. Abbey remembered Lewis’ words. Ah, Lewis. She had thought of little else since she got back to England. Imprinted upon her vision, his face haunted her. Like the fragrance of his drifting cigar smoke he was always there, following her, teasing her. Yet she knew so little about him. Abbey sighed. She had not had the presence of mind even to find out his surname, even less his telephone number or address. He was gone now, a lost dream.

Will Abbey find love in Spain? Is Lewis a lost dream? Find out in Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance by Shona Silverman.

First Dates

Hey, are you ready yet?

He’ll soon be at the restaurant, anticipating, waiting just for you and no-one else. Of course you’ve been on dates before, lots of them. But those dates didn’t matter so much. At the back of your mind you knew that they were just practice runs, going through the motions. But this one is different, you can feel it. This one is special.

You’re choosing which dress to wear. This is tricky. Sexy or modest? How much should you show, how much should you leave to his imagination? Yes, that one is perfect. A hint of your charms, just the right amount of leg to tease him with.

First impressions do matter, despite what they say. Hair, make-up, perfume. Done. You’re in control now. Should you wear your glasses? Well, you won’t be able to see him if you don’t! Glasses it has to be, then.

Hurry up, the table is booked for 7.30! In a couple of minutes you’ll be on your way there. Head up, shoulders back, it’s time to go. Is your heart pounding yet?

The Bizarre Theatre Of Your Dreams

Dreams, the playground of grotesque fantasy. Distorted reflections of your life mirrored in a troubled, stormy ocean. A theatre filled with players that shift, meld and fade. Mingled voices speaking in tongues. You can’t hear their words but still you feel their minds.

Dreams, packed with imperative, reminders of all the things that you have yet to do. Journeys you must make, relationships to heal, broken things that need mending, voids in your life still unfilled.

In dreams, loved ones come to talk to you. A parent that lives on only in your heart comes to comfort you, a lover from the distant past touches your face, friends you can barely identify arrive to heighten the chaos. Sometimes disturbing, occasionally consoling, the ensemble changes as the drama plays out. Time is fluid. Minutes, hours, even years mean nothing.

The backdrop of this theatre is bizarre. Distortions of places that you barely remember or have never even been. Perhaps the house you lived in when you were just a child, a street in a city you have never known, your church or synagogue populated by characters you are sure would never be seen there.

Dreams, half-crazy, surreal, disturbing. Do they seem pointless, no more than absurd distractions sent to cause fleeting distress? Are they no more than discarded snippets of indie cinema, ill-conceived and worthless mind-art produced by some misguided director? Or are they trailers for a compelling movie that you must not miss?

When you wake tomorrow, don’t try to shake off the shreds of your dreams. Hold on to those movie snippets for a moment. Make it your quest to remember your loved ones, to heal relationships and re-connect with friends.

You have the power to take control of your waking hours and you can start right now. Fill the voids in your life, one by one. Seek a little more contentment each day, make your waking world a better place to be. Sail away from the troubled ocean, see your life reflected in calmer waters.

Green and Blue

A dream, green and blue,
of waves kissing the shore.
Warm breeze-tousled hair,
fingertips touching my face.

I loved him and he loved me,
his jade eyes searching, knowing.
I was happy for a little while
in my dream of green and blue.

 

 

 

Love: The Secret Ingredients

You have to make the best of what you’ve got.

I’ve just been making chicken stew and that sounds weird. Why would I make that? Because I had chicken, of course! I also had lots of vegetables, some garlic and a pinch of inspiration. So I’m looking forward to a delicious meal tonight and it will be all the more delightful because I know that I’ve used what I had to hand and wasted nothing. It was easy and quick, too.

We can waste even more of our time, energy and indeed money on people and relationships than we do on food. Just think of all those hours you’ve spent online or maybe in bars or some place like that, searching for the perfect mate. With just a touch of chutzpah I’m going to guess that you’ve invested a lot of resources in those efforts.

Did you find that hot and tasty special someone? I hope you did, but if not then may I suggest something? Take a few moments to reflect on all the people you already know, the ones you see at the office or maybe at your church or synagogue. How well do you really know them? Have you given them a chance to come into your life?

Perhaps it’s time to give Tinder a break and take another a look at the special ingredients that you already have.

 

What is he thinking?

What is he thinking
behind dark eyes?
You know him well,
or so you believe.

Last time, puzzled,
you dared to ask.
Do you love me?
No reply, of course.

Stop wondering
about his thoughts.
They are just words
you need not know.

Watch him move,
see what he does.
It doesn’t matter much
what he is thinking.