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"A solitary star had gone astray, yawning before the dark,
hiding; straight ward, waver the wink of light, slowly fading.
By my window I shed a tear; I farm the fields of my soul."
Above the winter masses, buried, I wait for the sun.
Sweet smelling kitchen, the hunger rise, within, my tongue swings...
Rise away from the table...noisily I yell for my bike.
Downhill of Mount Olympus, everything feels real.
In the orchard of my dreams, I am structure as a statue.
Mr. Sandman made a fool, of my midnight summer dream.