I tally up days,
their score make the nonce.
Avenue tunes,
ships of towns
once became my direction,
my trial balloon.
Arms of friends,
coffee's beans -
slow rhythm of cafe.
And the sky change its colour
on merging with wind.
The curtain drawn
screens my evening
by reading-lamp looming black.
A sand-glass runs its marathon
but wastes the sand.
Clock shouts and
the door is bound
up in twice a-bolted bar.
TV snow. Blue fainted star.
The time aspiring at highs
and smth's destined to arise.
