I parted the curtain,
To see the larks screech,
But as a little went off,
Howl and tears,
Birds creeping with pain,
Music has been a rush,
Music of bullets,
Painted the neighbour.
Fear,
I turned down the curtain,
For my heart,  
Folly and frail,
Though hopes to assure rain and spring,
Words but no action to render.
But veil too thin to contend the gore,
Maybe the birds screeched till it joined the music of bullets again,
Who knows?
My cozy bed took me to my dreams.