The old woman with her long broom has disappeared. She was sweeping the bronze leaves in the street. It was November when I heard her steps with the rain drips. It is winter now and she isn't seen.
Christmas miracles smile at a princess and a prince. My cyber window is open for you but I miss. Our cyber vehicles seem to be quick. Your messages flow as if they were streams.
The old woman's drips of dew are still on my cheeks. She wouldn't expect any miracles even in her dreams. It is winter now and nobody knows where she is. It was her job to clean the floors of the streets. Could I be in her place with her long broom in the autumn mist? Now my cyber window seems to be starlit. I meet you through it but I miss.