by Jules Elleo  

Leaving Bucharest

In the courtyard
of my apartment block,
there is an elm tree.
Its foliage reaches up
to the 5th floor.
Its roots
run deep
beneath our sleep.
I will see
that tree
retrace the path back
to life.

SMS (Save My Soul)

You are the one who started it
with your tablet
& your phone
when in bed.

There is always one more Facebook
post to update,
one more tweet
to re-tweet,
one more friend
to entertain
save the one
lying here
– right here –
next to you
in your Wi-Fi-powered bedroom.

I told you how much I hated it.
I told you
how much
I hated it.

The Birth of Day

dreams bathe in morning’s light
past the unremembered shoreline
where quiet minds take flight
& grieving hearts decline

About the Author:

 Jules Elleo is working on his first full-length manuscript of poems in Brussels, Belgium.