I go back to my sea shore
where I belong
to collect sea shells
and watch one horizon  in orange autumn
And you faceless in groups
fly there in sky, hollows and balloons
and go; as a final trial.
I  watch them burst as hollows
and honestly like a child I try
to laugh with the whole inncence
left in this earth.....
In groups you conceal
spectrums and deals
drink bottles of tasteless water
sugar free......
And in ink prints I lost my trust
Real ones I find from classics,
stored in libraries of the world
Wisdom  I carry in quintals;
not to burst like hollow balloons
that sounds wise than a sting