The Path

Another season settled on the branches Of the oaks down the winding path. I hear coming sounds, some voices - Church bells before a Mass, a child's laugh... The cracked asphalt with rotten leaves, Crows announcing something to the sky - I know the road well and where it leads, I used to walk here many a time… Bare sprigs miss their leaves and the sun. They seem left, but I don’t feel alone. I marvelled at the trees each season, I feel as if the path was my own. The night will cover the alley soon And will calm down the noisy birds. Some time ago I rejoiced at this view - Now I am trying to look forwards… I came back here to find my past dreams – They still fill the air in the place. I look for them in the faint sunbeams And on the path – the familiar space.