First Dead Leaves
Falling raining
Splashing sound
The only noise to be found
In the colorless room
His story told through
A swift movement of the hand
But all good things must be
Short and memorable like a song.
Looking back with longing
I hope to find that song once more.
I asked if it was night
and you untied my blindfold
and showed me the day.
The dead leaves around us
contrasted the sky.
Paolo Driussi.
