One says good-bye senselessly to
the small things, the way a tree
in Fall dies for its leaves

At the end sadness is the slow death of simple things
those simple things that remain
hurting in the heart.
One returns always
to the old sites
where one loved life.

Then how absent it seems are
those things we loved
for that my girl don’t leave, dreaming of the return, and
that love is simple
the simple things get swallowed by time…

Stay here in the brightness of midday
Where you will find with bread and sun the table set.
For that my girl don’t leave, dreaming of the return
that love is simple,
the simple things get swallowed by time…