"You are strange," he says,
"I just had to tell you that."
And I have to laugh.

It's like a ghost town--
There's hardly anyone here
On these silent streets.

If you see me here,
Greet me in the morning sun
Like a welcome breeze.

Listen!  There's music
In these rustling autumn leaves,
Whirling in the wind.

Up on the lampposts
The sparrows gather and sing
In the morning light.

                         October 10, 1999
                      --Alexander Shaumyan