Worn out lies the street before me,
the empty eyes of the houses
stare sadly over my head.
This is the town where the future has ended,
now trees are too dry to have leaves.
A piece of bright coloured plastic
is flowering one of the dead branches.
The wind won’t even howl here,
shadows won’t stick,
there is only the silence of crows.
I see a butterfly dance
as if nothing happened.