Het is weekend. Dranquilo.

Distance, like snow, melts.

Walking in deep yellow leaves
drowns out your voice.

Thinking, like a deep river,
eats canyons in your mind.

Everything blossoms that can.

Everything blossomed that could.

Stars move if they are airplanes;
wish fast.

You can live in as many places
at once if you need to.

For some places you don't go anymore,
you still have a key.

A dream brings you into morning
one way or another.
Prettig weekend. En be nice.