She dropped of her
red dress and sunnish wreath.
Walked through the town naked.
Everything went silent.
Her body was steaming
as she swayed in the chilly, evening air.
I was left in the middle of
soft, scented fog
with a bouquet of dried roses.
Before washing away behind clouds,
in the dimmed moonlight,
I felt her silky lips
kissing me goodbye.
Magic got soaked back into the sky
to float among the star dust.
I will wait for you to make it rain.
I have got you at the tip of my tongue,
at the end of my mind.
My fallen star which rose again and shines brightly,
enlightens my dreams, my way.
A feather you planted under my blade
has grown, has spread.
My angel, which I miss more and more every fall.
I am hungry for your voice,
your work and eyes.
I was shaped with your words.
Tell me, would you drink with me,
to celebrate the fate ?
If we ever met…
God loves his witches.
Listens to their prayers,
Every fall drinks a cup
full of their tears, screams and whispers
and brings them back to life.
Decorates their paths
with rain of golden leaves,
baths them in the evening fog.
Women with burned roses pinned in hair,
eyes as cold and hypnotizing
as the moon enlightening the sky.
Each year they fall in love
with the sounds of wind
dancing in the streets.
God kisses them goodnight
blurring sweet, chilly air
on their tired faces.
Last night I got a call.
– The fall is coming.
The moon is getting brighter, bigger.
Air is getting sweeter, full of magic.
Star dust is sprinkling from the sky
and even pill popping ghosts are growing wings.
Knit me a dress from the evening fog
and watch me shimmer in a dim light of street lamps.
Back home wrap a blanket around my naked shoulders,
hand me a mug of hot, jasmine tea
and let in that chilly wind knocking at the window,
whispering all the secret spells, wishes, dreams…
I hid mine in the eyes, scared to say them out loud,
for during the fall everything can happen.
Especially when you are a witch.