26 January 2013
Something about those quiet mornings
They make me cringe
When I hear the engine of a single jet pass by
It's usually sunny as I lounge in the gleaming air
I can hear the hens rustling by
These eerie sounds
They bring me to that moment where I wonder
Will I find myself behind the clouds
Can I find it in the glare that got lost
Why does this memory remind me of something
Chasing the jet trail
It never fails
Opuss № I