The leaves are down Floating green in the puddle Spring mocking autumn Advertisements
Thinking of L’viv, Dried up fountains and friends. It could be today.
Escaping by bike Take the unknown way or road Until it finds home.
Writer’s block: colon Constipated, words don’t flow. Ahhhh…road’s sweet release.
Returning spring sun Bathes my back with warmth Cold waits in the shade
An old knife cuts time Returning memories lost In the now I stay.
Dwellers are no more A ghost village sits empty Thrush returns for spring.