The floors are washed, cleanliness is everywhere And silence slowly enters the door Merry silenced voices And the ticking clock counts the time.
Outside the windows it’s warm, autumn time, And the January snowstorms are still far away. Life goes the way, time to think About what we did not have time.
And silence accumulates on the word ... How will it be heard, is this word? It’ll lie on my soul like baklava Or twists like lemon acid?
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