A riddle to the feather of the feet,
below the dying of no winter wheat,
What love you experience today,
is in contrast to one suffering
A green leaf slips the brown lips,
of the intoxicated as she sleeps
Colors change as the concrete
ages from white to the grey,
Mock as a youngster's fleeting
movements to bones aging
cracks are the skin's scarring
and the flies in the jar dying
as you reminisce everything.