Fill the room with silver

When the words fade,

like summer,

there's a melancholy in the veins.

Because what am I without them?

The room fills with silver

and no matter how hard I try,

I can't grasp anything .

The melody of the music is too thin.

August it seemed,

pulled down all the notes from the trees in

one fell swoop.

I keep telling myself

the piano,

is

not

firewood

yet.