Poezja

With dolls on your side 
of a troubled life; you 
go on rocks to receive 
an unspoken answer. 
 
The sounds, the echo. 
Your father walks in - 
and lays down the brick 
on your papers. 
 
Were you prepared to save 
yourself from the onslaughts 
of ladders. The snakes were 
ready to bring you down. 
 
Let the cityscape rise on- 
the tall spires and snow 
fall on the bones of birds 
for a salutation.