I awakened to
silence and dryness.
And looked outside
my window,
onto a dark city.
The street cleaners
laughed at nothing,
in their bright
orange jackets.
And as the cicada’s,
sang their last songs,
in that shark-mouthed way.
I laughed at the statues,
I was once in love with.
And a slight drizzle
began to fall……
A Wandering Poet 