As far as autumn is concerned,
Existence has no reasons left.
We brood on shiftless minutes earned
Without a single chance to spend.
I know, it seems a little trite.
A sideway topic well-explored.
We’ve covered all of this, albeit
We didn’t manage hit a blot.
The neighbors dream of their walls.
Through leaking poems winter comes.
Alas, with ice. A wild, wild rose
Stays home, domesticates, at last.
The style has had a certain charm
Resulted in the tunes alike.
Give me your hand. I’ll read your palm,
I’ll eat your plum and ride your bike.
The builder from above will help
Construct ideas out of shards.
Here comes the long-awaited cab
To pick us up and vanish fast.
Days mingle, shake beneath the earth
Without trust. The skies look drained.
Again, the clouds are heading north
To visit never (ever!) land.