Terrace

One of soft summer evenings is fading and passers go by Cappuccino in hand and a cig, you relax in delight Sick and happy you sit, and it must be your favorite style Or at least that's the way I remember the terrace at night I'm a Don Quixote's sword, broken down to pieces in hopeless attack You're a daughter of time from a windmill of fair solitude We touched on some topics but the one most essential we lack But we smoked it together, when silence was looking quite good Cappuccinos and smiles jumbled up in cubistic galore All our sorries and thank you’s swirl rounds, dancing over the mall Sudden windflaw blows off paper tissues, and slams the back door Time to go, leaving crumbles and ash, I bet you’ve said it all.