Wild wind rose, I belong to no one
How do sparrows tell the story of
the fading colour of a tree,
the tallest tree in town
till the stone mounds appeared
the mounds which don't let you
see the sky.

Flying is falsely accepted now
and only on the edge of town,
the fall is barely making victims
in the parks...

I wonder hopelessly amidst the lines
searching for the horizon
that made me dream,
but I find it harder and harder still
to see beneath my borred hat...