I will probably write a poem
to hang this evening till death.
No hope that it will survive
the harassment of time unkind.
Else,I kept this evening for you
but you have lost the reason to take it.
Wish those days did not change
and I had no reason to interpret
what you say and what you mean
and what you mean but never speak out.
Wish I did not buy that instrument
which only increases the distance.
I could then arrive to your door by walking
to give you no chance of saying any excuse.
But most of our wishes are not fulfilled
so I’ll not move and allow this evening to perish.