Dream of the Chair

Stroking wrinkle and skin Of his rivets and skinny legs On top of a hill An art school on the other side He must had been one of the chairs To support the students for generations Their trials and errors and meditations are written on his warps Now he became an ascetic Enduring the winds and the rains Would he accept me? In that minute I sat on him facing toward the City of Bratislava in the distance below me Birds are flying Leaves are trembling in the breeze Small white flowers blossoming Trees have soft shades At night He must look up at Innumerable stars I sighed That's why he is here... In his acceptance I let my body sink Into the dream of the chair