This poem (or an excuse of a poem) was written in a flash for a friend who asked for advice whether to meet an old flame or not.

If you have to go to the North, my love
Why not take the first train
To gaze at the autumn sky

Feel the chilly air in your bones
Clear all the dust
A painting has gathered in years.

Stroke the love that is not lost
Even if for the few moments
when you look at the sky

When all the dust has been cleared
Alas, that will be the time to come back
It will be sad, as it was before

But the quivering moments stolen from life
will come back with thee
And, life shall not be all that empty

you will smile at the little treasure in
that wobbling and quavering,
overgrown suitcase of memories