I sleep these days in piles of memories, shoveled like coal, the soot of it upon my hands and the taste of hard labour, strewn with gathered thoughts of yesterday and slightly upturned faces of my friends who once were children laughing down the streets of memory lane in her eyes I see the rain I walked today where voices fade the place that always stays in shade she whispered once, "I'm so afraid" but no one heard her in this glade give me a green cover and a blue sky and 15 butterflies and one perfect lie if I knew what I was saying then perhaps I would be playing with the candles of the world against the solitude of heart, she laughed once when she wouldn't have and that is what made me smile in the end, when blue became grey and the wind seemed far too knowing, but what was showing in these days a smile means so many things and you can't fly far on threadbare wings