Fire, Stone And Sharp Knife Poem by alexandros filippakis

I guess I was a little nostalgic
and I kept writing for the Fall
meanwhile you caressing flowers
claimed that the spring has come

I guess I was a little angry
the time I wrote about the March
you wrote hymns for loneliness
about good friends, about the past

I guess I was a little nervous
the days I wrote about the Angst
how sweet your writing about lovers
your feelings that for ever last

I guess I'll always be the same
a fly that drowns in your milk
a fire, a stone or a sharp knife
tearing your dress of fine silk