Just more like a skeleton
with scattered leaves
in the early night they tremble
as if they had forgotten to fall
Only the wind plays with them
while the neighboring tree
reaches for my friend's crown
- or does he just want to lean on someone?
The last fruits nestle in the grass
as if they were ready
for imminent transformation
- or are they seeking shelter in the bosom of the earth?
Silently I wander by
a quick glance, a gentle wave
as if our conversations
were part of another fairytale