Tedara Mavrodiev

My hands slid through the woolen clothes,

Their touch soft upon my fingers

And I put them in the baggage.

Therein they rested tender.

When I opened my stifled room a new air hit upon my face, I checked to see whether all was in its place,

When I left, the front door screeched and

The cat brushed all over my feet,

My dog howled right at the sky,

I was leaving for a bit.

Soon home will be left,

The world will lie ahead.