Some dreams are big -
vast, like the void in outer space,
they want to change the fabric of,
bring each and every part in the right place,
so that it all unfolds,
few, special days

Some dreams are small -
plain, like specks of dust on your floor,
they want to broom away for once,
bring each and every grain out of the door,
so that you can just rest,
and smile some more.

In a grey and empty wasteland,
a rusty car with engine on,
stands and waits for its last run,
before its spirit has to go,

wind whistles in it's holes,
plays sad and longing song,
reminds: when engine stalls,
prepare to say "so long".

There is a human-shaped hole,
in the space of my home.
I look at it, questioning "why?",
it doesn't look, it has no eyes,
I try to move the space around,
to hide the hole in the background,
of busy work and daily chores,
arranging socks in the drawers,
ignoring what's painfully true,
it can be filled only by you.

With every tear,
I cannot catch,
your pangs of pain,
I cannot match,

WIth every thought,
strangling your heart,
hugs that don't reach,
when we're apart,

I check a mark,
hug from the past,
that by now will,
forever last.

Marching slowly,
on the sidewalks,
the roofs,
seeping into,
the slabs of concrete,
the minds,
dissolving with it,
the pathways in front,
the thoughts of tomorrow.