Bulls in My Blood

It happened in the month when the cherries were falling down,
and the birds were nest makers.
I pilled my skin like an old tree
and every night I was dreaming
a little girl with a cross on her chest…
-it hurts,
pushed hard this storm
that mighty knocks on my door,
and that is why I go,
in the distance like a stranger
who was seven years silent.
And now,
when I am all changed
I make words of my memory
and the magic again runs like something which slips…
I dream about you again
but now closely to the sky!