A Wordsmith’s Reflection

This short story of looking within oneself was first written and published in this blog on May 22, 2010. Today I share it with you. Hope you enjoy it and helps you look within yourself.

It was a place of astonishing beauty.  A calm breeze surrounded me, bestowing peace to my soul.  I sat down in front of an altar of stone surrounded by an arch of climbing roses. Breathing in the serene atmosphere, I heard a voice call my name, whisper questions. 

“What do you want?  What are you willing to sacrifice?”

Read More


I want to show her the world. See the glitter in her eyes resembling the moment when the light touches the surface of the water as the sun turns to sleep.

I want to witness the explosion of emotions pumping the red fluid to her growing heart, like the rapid pace of a herd of gazelles through an open field.

Mother and daughter by Natalia TejeraI want to be the guardian…, No! The chest where she puts away for safe keeping her moments of splendor which she explores, holding my mature and loving hand, the beautiful treasures that are yet to be discovered by two adventurers and young hearts.

I want to be the companion whom shows her the serene feeling of an evergreen valley, that flourishes and stretches endlessly admired through an ancient window of a Tuscan villa.

I want to be in awe as she wonders the once filled gray stone corridors of a historical castle. Show her the simplicity of life as it goes by enjoying itself, while one rests sitting comfortably, book in hand, coffee waiting patiently on the table, at a café.

That’s the moment I want, the others are just the fulfillment of the goals that came to be when her life was shown the light of day and the obscure sparkling night.

Closed eyes, a breath of fresh air, a smile. Is where life, wisdom, love, pure love, shines through her angelic and alabaster face, as she discovers what it means to be awake in a life that was meant to be even before she was conceived.

Bookmark and Share

Alexandra Román 


¡Comparte con nosotros en Facebook!

Facebook Group/Mink

Black Shadow, a poem









No body, no face, nor tears;

only a distant moaning in the desert.

Muted words lost in the sandy winds.

Prison robe, eternal damnation.

Hands scratch it, no marks.

Through minuscule holes, curious

black eyes gaze upon the male scenery.

Living dead cloaked in shadow.

Thinks, believes, hopes,

                                            and dreams of a distant horizon

that will deliver them to the light.