in the wake of the wave

I feel very much in a boat without a paddle,

It’s the strange sounds of ice cream,

I wish they sang through the misty air as well.

Women about me,

And through me,

It’s all the same in the end.

But you really simply cannot be sure,

To the shade of grass,

Before winter’s end.

I wonder,

As I often do,

The places that ice does go without seeing.

I feel like there’s more to be had,

But I don’t have hands to grip it,

Not yet.

I watch and I stare at those that step,

They were born with such nice shoes,

And the world is but a sad memory of me and you.

My mind wanders,

And the walls remain without decorations,

White and thin I can hear them on the other side.

The beginning of time,

And the end of my youth,

I suppose it could have been worse.

Save me with your scalpel,

Cut through the cold winded hearts,

And sing another tune.

The wood creaks,

And the clouds waver,

I can’t fear that any longer.