There is an end to me and you,
but not to us...

The lady was passing
so sparkling in dazzle...

In the oscillation of an accordion
we were gasping...

I dreamed of you at nights,
I sleepwalked you in the daylights...

Clocks disguise the time
in the acts of rotations...

Time is the quantized
anamnesis of such an...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

I dream of you
in jazz...

Others
Bridge us back to ourselves...

We must again,
learn these mundane paths...

Butterflies of poetry
forever flutter in their reflections...

About an hour passed
in the arms of silence...