Al Quotion. The Part Of Improvisation (№ 153696)

You know, when you sleep at night when outdoor light falls on your face, I draw your eyes. Clumsily, tools sleepy imagination I come up with them open. Blue as the sea, or black, like coffee, doesn't matter. Only one thing is important, that they were looking at me. So I looked into them. Because I know morning will spin life, zamechal us into the dough fuss, crafty will whisper in lost soul funny ridiculous things you forget again just turn and look at me, and I again forget to tell you something important, hidden deep in the heart. But the next night I again won't sleep. I'll draw your eyes. Maybe one day the scales of fate outweigh this grey sky, falling in puddles, these racing anywhere in the car, spray the wheels stagnant loneliness, and we take a pause in the noise of the city, hold hands, just as in early childhood, and you look at me the painted one night eyes.