Recession.

Hands in my pokets,
my careless steps on dry leaves;
just for one day
I'd take two paces to the rear.

I wish you were near
to tell you a tale I have dreamt
of two people lost
searching for each other - to find themselves.

The dust on our shelves,
the scent of old times,

imploring us to turn back,
imploding into the rhymes;

but still - you're in my mind
with nothing left to say
and deaf to this dust,

that - just for one day
I wish you could
blow away.

VedenKH - July 2009