Not a thought of mending – I'm a broken vase,
In my scattered pieces you can see your face.
Put your new dead flowers in another jar –
Splints are all that matters for my sad guitar.
Sun will shine again for flowers, not for me,
In a cloud of dust my dreams will set me free.
Time will come again to feel a human near –
Throw away the junk and I will disappear.
Every little splinter soon will find its place,
They will rest for years in a blissful maze.
Every bit will glisten like a shooting star –
One thing that will miss me is my sad guitar.
12.2012