Bicycle bells ringing in the alley
Flinging stones of reminiscences
At my open windows, cracking glass-panes
I am the atrophied ornithologist, time-beaten musician
Counting the birds, who flew to my life in their seasons
And fluttered back, only adding to my records
Cumbering in my files, sometimes I peruse them:
Each day someone came, and someone went
And I was equally different to this sad business
Of coming and going, to this absurd action
Of adding memories to someoneâ??s desk-book
Tears and laughter, and minute impressures
Of estranging feelings, digging wells of imagination,
Anticipation, then loveâ?¦and then despair
Erecting shields of invisible glass-panes at windows
So that I drop my pen on my ever spacing records
Scratch my head, to remember some important bird
But failâ?¦
Only to be startled and brought to sense
By the bicycle bells ringing in the alley
Flinging stones of reminiscences
At my open windows, cracking glass-panesâ?¦
