Saved in an orange clay bowl
some ash and cigarette butts
embrace a night,
Under the glossy cover of a comic book
walk the eyes of a child,
Sipping some iced mint tea
she reads their silence,
Not one could see inside,
the city where coffee brews
Not one was heard mumuring
the whispers of destiny,
Who knows? How many times?
I walked past that land
unable to see inside
and a glance waiting,
Who knows? How many times?
The ash flew,
The nights smiled,
The eyes found a rescue,
and silence played on destiny
till today......
