Ten windows light the horizon, this world,
Once the atmosphere escapes into the unknown.
Hearing grapes and cherries of the sky
We glide to the sea’s mystery, throwing harmony.
This land is made of woes of time, honoured by workers
That spend alcohol, sweet and secret, in their wilful calm.
My windows are focussed on my bedroom mat,
Where leaving is committed, a little sound collapses.
The mattress seems heavy with laughter of last-night’s
Dreaming, escalading, jumping, and forcing.
Let the windows of this tree of life
Be shone with direct sunlight!
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