For Later
On the threshold of August
Doors wide open
Our faces are drowned
In the shroud of clouds
Put them away I’m begging
But hardly you hear me
Sounds of cars, all muted
Brought your street to my door.
In addition to what has been said
One can stay silent
Moreover, what has been said
Doesn't have to be read
Roadside stones
Overgrown with moss
Someone's life is put on hold
For later.
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