First Dream

You peered out from there and I have not yet collected my papers
and have not yet dried tears rolling on the chest of my stories

Peered out early as a new year and my birds have not yet been back
to dens of my sad heart

And I have not yet colored the walls of my memory with seasons
which promised me some bird nests

I have not yet woken up from storms of the winter
and funerals of leaves falling on spaces of my heart

You peered out this year and on my both sides of memory giving me sleepless nights
and photos for children crushed by death without mercy