This early autumn
flammes slowly.

Swans
sliding on cold waters.

Waves of love rise on these shores of long awaiting.

Somewhere
your lips celebrates silence.
Somewhere
i write your name in the colourful ink of dying autumn leaves.
remembering the way we touched each other.

i sit by the river, while it talks to me
and i recalled the name you gave to the teardrop in my eyes

'Freedom!'.

Freedom from what, my beloved, i asked
you stood up and smiled
you never said a word
and i never said a word.
that evening the sun and the moon died.


Mute sparks leaps
to ignite the sombre visage of tonight's silence

every word
is a teardrop with feathered wings
transforming white doves into vultures
flocking around
a piece of meat named grief.

Is freedom today in your eyes .
No, i wont ask.


You don't have to tear my soul into pieces.
to bandage the scars of your soul.
just
put your head on my shoulders
to watch white doves hovering past the sky.