Of all things silent…
Of friends and forgotten stairways...
Of flying kites and being free
And, standing still
The lonely piece of sky…from the lonely window
Sighs, as she clings to the railing
The last of the tears…
Have dried in her throat
She searches…
For a kite…for a colourful spark…
In the grey heavens…
Something else from what is…
Her shackles have fallen silent…
Her battered soul numb
Seeking not freedom…but assurance…
That not everything is a lonely body in the lonely
streets
Yet, the sky is empty…
The music silent…the guitar unstrung…
She turns back to darkness
The grey sky stays quiet.
