Real Estate
Fingerprints on frozen windows
Night of wonder
Avenue of lost souls
She waits..maybe his shadow will play
the "game of shapes" on walls of skyscrapers
The street is as naked as her heart
She knows she's not so good looking on the outside
but what a rhapsody of soul...
even the marine layer cries with joy on balconies of roses.
I hold her tears in my little, pink jewelry box
I lost the key to wind up the spring of the little ballerina inside
I go and visit the place with windows
but there are no more fingerprints..
The place was sold...
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