She was tumbling in the bed–left to right; right to left.
But, for more than once, she might had asked self–
or to the vacant that was surrounding her–
“where’s the sleep had gone…”
I don’t know (for sure) ’cause I only saw she had been rolling in her bed–
in the moonlight.
(I remember) The droplets of icicles, the muffled hushing snowy breeze and–
The silent droppings of flake of snow–
Peppered with shots and bangs–
Used to create a queer blue sound of silence.
She had gotten up and had a glass of water before she came up to me;
She brushed her hand on the glass of the frame and smiled with teary eyes–
I was smiling, as I had been posing for last one year, with bright eyes.
She had left a sigh, as the moved garland let me know,
and said under the breath, as her lips moved–
“It was my dream to have this–
and it was your to fulfill that…”
She went back to the bed after, again, brushing the glass on me.
She closed her eyes before, after few minutes, starting the loop —
of left to right and right to left–
’til the night welcome the dawn without siren or another bang…
It was long since the silent had prevailed–
over the snowy valley–after a long time…