My mom gave me life two times. When I was born and when she taught me that no matter of your circumstances, life is still beautiful and magic is everywhere.

I fall in love with hearts that stay open, with conversations where we bare our souls, with laughter that fills empty spaces with joy, with the ones who never give up on dreams.

For one more month I will be sleeping in the room where my husband died I don’t think of it often  like that This is the room where  we slept and laughed cried and held each other A room where we loved (to read the whole poem visit my instagram vladamarspiano)

All the beautiful and delicate things I buried inside me are ready for the spring awakening.

We have to take care of each other. We have to pay attention, and hold each other with kindness, empathy, understanding and love. Those are revolutionary acts.

To be joyful, loving, soft and kind is my personal revolution.

Give me real people, faces that lived life fully. Give me raw thoughts and language of dreams. Give me unmade beds, messy lives, and hearts that beat like mine.

To be truly seen. That is everything.

Horizon

Life is too short not to be able to say: I love you. I miss you.

I hope i never stop being amazed by this life

Today I played the last concert on my beautiful piano as it is going to a new home. How many beautiful memories I had with this piano, how many melodies were composed here. Feeling very grateful and a bit of sad to say goodbye. But new life awaits ♥️

Everything we do matters.

Blossoms

I long for a quiet world. I long for the sound of wind in the tree’s canopy. I long for the sun on my face and your hand holding mine.

A portion of your mind has been entwined with mine in strange, unexplainable tenderness while we live separately in our own quiet places.

Your name on my lips means hope, faith. Your lips on my skin means desire, pleasure. I am the ache of your soul. I am untamed and free.

You can hear now morning birds singing. Spring is here. It is inevitable. And that makes my heart happy and at ease. News are full of horrific stories that often we forget how life is beautiful. Just listen to the birds... like them, we also need to sing.

Every step, every heartbeat, every breath is of missing you.

Grief sits heavy on Sundays. I take it with me to the art galleries, walks by the river and movies. It is always a bit better with nature and art.

“The stomach of the world is in spasm It is waiting for calmer waters To justify its existence And when everything dies down Die, I wanted to say Life will go on Without time” Goran Mars #WorldPoetryDay

I will blossom again. I will be wild like a Spring.

I hope I never lose my sense of wonder.

I love the wind when it blows through the bare treetops, across the North Sea, through the Highlands and fields of dafodils and into my hair. If I could, I would be the wind.

To wander, to dream, to love.

I found a poem my dad wrote to my husband when he published his first book of poetry. I never saw it before. He signed it ‘with admiration’. It made me cry and made me feel so grateful for lives of these two beautiful men who respected and loved each other. Miss them both.

Nothing can compare with laughter Kindness saves lives. Love is always the answer.

We are strong when we are together. #InternationalWomensDay

More than ever we need to love each other.

I am still just a tender heart full of wonder.

To be naked in your words.

Cheers to a beautiful life we shared. Miss you.

We must be very brave not to give up on love.

When the world becomes too much

Every now and then, in dreams, we meet, and live our beautiful, ordinary life again.

Grief, like love, expands as we age.

Light

Give me real people, faces that lived life fully. Give me raw thoughts clumsy written in a broken language of dreams. Give me unmade beds, messy lives and conversations that make me yearn for more.

I blossom quietly in the winter night.

We are ageless, timeless, we are forever.

Every day a tragedy brings us together, so yes, I still believe that kindness can change the world.

We have to hold each other, lovingly, tenderly, so that light stays in our hearts.

The quiet morning light, shinning on the blood spilled across the world, of innocent people.

To live quiet, ordinary life, far from the noise of the world. To laugh. To cherish moments. To love. That is an art.

To be truly seen, truly felt, for the woman I am. Nothing less than that.

I love the woman I am becoming.

The intimacy of the hands, knowing every curve of me, like they touched me a thousand times before.

To be your last poem, last moan, last breath. To be all that.

Tell me stories of kindness and goodness, stories of hope as they are light we need so much in these dark times. Tell me again stories how we connect, how we shine, how we laugh. Tell me of magic. Tell me of love.

A year has passed. I miss you. I love you.