The city's grayness
sometimes is just an inconvenient dream
in the eyes of the ravens
flipping wings like butterflies
pouring in white attires sprung from waterfall’s foam
turning them back into clouds to see the childhood again
with eyes that read the wrinkles in the face of the elderly poet.
Sense is embedded in the chimeras resembling exhaust fumes
we discover whenever we look deeper
and when our lips flourish in a smile
snatching for tea in the wind
simmered by the smell of distant linden.
We reveal shades and truths in yellowed headlines
the pain is spread across the streets of our city
broken by an earthquake
caused by gray and yellow cars racing with the sunset.
One day, a long ago dreamt day…
one unforgettable hour
the sky will get down to touch straight-line glances
in the city park there will be a rain
of scattered points with fresh scent from the leaves
that we live in the middle of the blinking autumn.
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