I am wondering...
How old the stones are?
and I am becoming a kind of numbed
Like them ...
Painting on their brow
The day before...
Like giving up
For color`S love.
The wind is coming from nowhere .
Here -the rock...in the other side-sand
And the river`S bisecting the dream:
one half for me
one half for the stone
Where I am fixing my lips
... being stone too....