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.