Her fingers are gently touching
the keys of the old piano
the world starts turning again
shadows of unseen birds fly
on the yellow walls
the wind is blowing the sheets hanged to dry
until the last drop of moisture is gone
into the reddish sky
bluish eyes are staring
behind the closed windows
a dog is sleeping in dust
a cart loaded with rugs passes by
on the stone-paved street
I see myself-a child on some doorsteps
a small girl approaches me and smiles
“Sir, if you want me to play the piano again
and you to look through the kaleidoscope one more time,
please don’t forget to insert a coin
in the machine”.