Summer

Farewell, sweet summer;
Memories of your warmness,
I will always remember...



~anamellie, 053009

My Gentleman

Shall I forget his raven colored hair, or his full red lips,
Or the warmth I felt on my fingertips as his hands held mine?
How can I not remember his honey brown eyes-
Which sent shivers through me,
As he fixed them on my unbelieving stare?

He swept me off my feet.
My gentleman, so sweet, so honest.
He gave me his heart, with love- the purest.
A fascinating man, with wit, intelligence, wisdom-
My Prince Charming in his humble little kingdom...

He's a heavenly being, with a smile so lovely.
He can breathe life into words, a lover of poetry.
He made me laugh- made my gloomy day seem bright.
And I'd never feel lonely in a cold cruel night.

An almost impeccable man- faithful, responsible even,
A little mysterious, intriguing, handsome, and obedient.
What have I done to deserve someone so fine?
Everything about him is a gift so divine...

And then I wake up to find this gentleman a dream.
What pity it is for you to say and believe
That this gentleman is my unreachable fantasy,
But I have a feeling he is real and somewhere near.

Have you ever seen my dream boy- the perfect man for me?
He's the man I wish to be with- forever I believe.
He has black hair, brown eyes... (see everything above)
Please, If you do, kindly lead him back to me.




~anamellie, 052009

Ten Candles

The sound of my cellphone ringing wakes me up.
"Hello," I say, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
No one replies. I just hear the background of the screaming of the children which annoys me so much.
I end the call. I shiver... as I realize what's happening.
The cellphone rings as I place it on the bedside table...
and rings...
I do not pick it up.
It stops ringing. I sigh. Relief washes over me.
I stand up and go towards the shower.
My cellphone beeps.
Twice!
Two messages.
I slowly approach the table and check.
This is Mom... Happy birthday, my daughter, it says.
Mom! It isn't my birthday today! I want to shout.
I read the other message:
Please... forgive me, I love you. It came from the same number.
I couldn't ignore it, I have to tell her she's got the wrong number.
I stare into space.
What do I do?
I reply, Thanks ma! And I forgive you! I love you too...
I'm so happy, I did not hurt her. Again.
I shower and change, I run downstairs and breathe.
Here goes... I inhale a lungful of air.
The children plays around the kitchen, chasing after each other.
My mother smiles at me, her hands outstretched as she holds the cake...
I want to cry.
Ten candles. The usual.
She sings Happy Birthday with her beautiful voice.
Just like yesterday.
And tomorrow.
I blow the candles, wishes there are eleven, or twelve, or... eighteen- my real age...
And my tears starts flowing.




~anamellie, 050409

AN: First of all, I want to say that this is entirely FICTIONAL. This is one of the stories wherein I have no idea what happens as I start. The storyline just pops into my head as I write the words... and the idea about '50 first dates' struck me. But this is originally inspired by the anonymous text message I received which greeted me a 'happy birthday’ (Even though it isn’t my birthday) I concentrated from there and end up with this.