Why Poem by RENATA GERS

we were good to the birds
until their wings fell down
and they stopped to appear in the nests
we licked their wounds climbing the branches
caressing the wet fluff left

it's possible to get used to silence
such as the morning rising
cold groan of the floor wakes up the sore body

only coffee does not taste the same
bittersweet mixes with the wet terrace
we looked out the sounds picking up fallen leaves
until we stumbled over the felled tree