I’ve come to the end of my days

My little short fuse of a time is to fly

stopped searching for the cave in which it lays

all my sorrows, where the last tears are drawn from 

where all the pictures of the past have lost their smile

where the black ink has started to dry 

It is but a scissor I need to cut off this red 

To let it breathe with a new breath so fresh

To...

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The wind has flown and the pieces of sand are in the night sky

The moon has left and the sun’s waiting for her turn to arrive

The frog has jumped from leaf to leaf and has left ripples nearby

For these ripples have seamlessly blended that I don’t remember 

I don’t remember from where these red roses have become mine

I have watched by the years as if they were places on a map

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