Country

The new delight of silence

And the crescendo of music

Tulip trees and sunflower seeds

Are swon into the crevices of my mind

The petals are fallen and forbidden

I call to the angels of the night

The hyacinth and the black drops

And the fallen fishes of catastrophe

I sweep my pen dust across my room

Like love it flies into freedom and pain

Music is a doorstep away to vanish off 

The electric traumatic rain 

I taste like good weapon my own country

The people are on their salvation

As roads write off like meditation of past.