Clapping of hands. The little faces. The song, finally. Everything seems to be okay. Eyes of the wind finds us beneath the veil of silence. Someday, someday. I am tired now, and again, and again. The shadow watches. The light isn't any different, the light is the shadow and the shadow the light.
Leaves of the fall on the streets. I walk on the tree. The violin is strange when it's not playing. But who will play the violin when nobody is around. The October breeze comes and goes finally finding the sea.
The stars are coming down for the night but someone, somebody, always manages to steal them on their way. I lie on my back staring at the empty sky.
Monday morning and Saturday evenings, they don't mean anything different. A window lets in the breeze. Falling days. A night is a night.
