When rain no longer

falls on deaf ears.

When words for winter

provoke a new kind of fear.

Where will you go all snugly snug?

Will I hibernate like bear?

Go south on wings like swallow?

 

When apricot jam reminds you

of a summer you did not see.

When tea becomes a drink for

warming hands like a lover.

Where then will comfort be?

Will it be in the back or forth?

Find it much closer to the skin?

 

When eraser can’t keep

up with the sharpener.

When grey pencil melts like

white candles at night time.

Where will untold stories go?

Of wet dog on bed, horse fed,

or of proving a point.

 

When paper starts to wave

like a nine hour ocean,

when clouds that leave your

mouth don’t deny you’re living,

where will you look to see truths?

Find it in a fogged up mirror?

On your knees without a prayer?

 

When spring will come

I’ll tell you all.

When I know before

I’ll tell you sooner

…