Streets lie dried up like in summer
trees carry crisp and yellow leaves
and their black and broken branches
grant no shade and no relief.
My arms sink slowly while i"m walking
no more pockets left to fill
By thoughts of blossoms, roofs and bedsteads
my tongue starts dancing to a smell.
She sells sweet plums by the roadside
but they cost a freedom each
my hands are empty like the sunset
my foolish arms stay out of reach.
A heart keeps pounding for a long mile
i have passed the magic scent
the smell will linger just a little while
it tastes staler in the end.
