Sad Wing. Of penalty hour

 Sad Wing. Of penalty hour. And if I lose you in kisses Maybe it's not too late. Between your mouth and my sleeping eyes. Your happy pillow in the temple. Crossed in our bed. While the sleeping kisses will not move. Your eyes-I remember owners of my dreams. While the secrets of your name come from the memory. Made to your chest. To your lips, kisses. With arms crossed standing. And with sighs, discouragement.

Sense, then ex-isto as a hypo/thesis.