The moon was sad as only the moon can be
Weeping men sought to escape the nightmare of their lives
We dream that with our fingers we can start
The calm of the flowers, the depth of the moments,
The integrity of a live birth;
As sobs turn to tears
Remembering a mother’s smile,
On the lucky day of a first kiss.
The past becomes a magnet
Drunk on all the heady scents of sadness
rooted in the DNA of the everyday,
Gathering a dream at the heart of the matter
Eyes locked on the eyes of a stranger
The mouth moves but I don’t hear anything.
I see burning eyes, her hair just like that,
On the street she is still the owner of the watch shop.
And in the afternoon the fantastic light skips
On the lawn where I saw a fairy cry bitter tears
For the beautiful spoiled dream girl she had been.
She kept her eyes shut
I only saw snow-white clusters of fragrant stars.