THE LAST YELLOW DREAM

              It snows with dying leaves, from the yellow wings of the fall’s angels, over the faded away earth and the tired brightness of the sun flowing down towards the sunset makes the evening sky all yellow. Over there, far away, where nobody can reach, beyond the golden horizon line, there is the time still unlived, the time that we are never able to know from before.
        But one night, the fall’s angels gave me the power to know a single day, only one, from beyond the golden boundary. And out of all unknown days of my life I chose the end of this fall.
        And maybe because the day I wanted to know was coming towards me covered in the golden brightness of the horizon, waltzing in large light circles, it seemed to me that it had the round face of the happiness closed in the gold of a ring.
        November is the the fall’s last yellow dream.
        And me… the love’s last yellow dream.

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