You have waken at eight fifteen, as usually, always, Left eye opened a little to look at the clock, Thought through slumber: "It's Sunday and also it's autumn", Hugged the pillow and dreams returned their flock... At ten forty you got up and a kettle was then put on, (No coffee is absurd) and you walked to take wash... ...Then you grumbled in the kitchen as if somebody's guilty, That this yellowish autumn made the streets and yards slosh... ... Your long sitting in grandad's old rocking armchair With warm cat on the lap who was purring so gentle... ... Nowhere you wanted. You were dreaming: "Oh, would that! If together we were..." and the eve softly mantled...