While my eyes go looking for that movement
which is only revealed in the wind's blow,
I have this fire of suggesting improvements
to the unstopple things that now you know.
I used to hide it in an unreachable basement,
but one night you came as a larcenous crow
and took it from me, there's no replacement,
there's nothing to do, nowhere left we can go.
Should I've hidden it better from your sight,
or shouldn't you have pushed the locked bars?
You see airplanes scribbling the nightsky,
but you can't think they are shooting stars.
As for me, I have chased saucers that fly
to nonexistent worlds, you might say Mars.