Sitting in an old wicker chair
I can see the clouds turning into bubbles
As the suds run into my eyes I believe for a moment
I can breathe underwater

There’s a knocking on the door
I stand and to my left I see an hourglass counting down the days left
I know my time is limited
As the suds run into my eyes I believe for a moment
I can skip the future
And return to my past

The knocking rings again so I open the window
A young girl is standing
On an old wicker stool
She sees me and smiles
As the suds run into my eyes I believe for a moment
I can save her

I sit behind the old oak door
She knows I am here so she doesn’t knock anymore
She bears a striking resemblance to my sister
Young and fair, average height with boyish build, athletic
I wish she would stay forever
As the suds run into my eyes I believe for a moment
I can invite her in

So I do

She smiles at me
It is a sad smile
And as she sits on her old wicker stool
And me in my old wicker chair
We talk about nothing

She stands suddenly
Reaches for me
Loud skidding sounds
Glass everywhere
I lurch forward
And she is gone

I sit on an old wicker stool
and watch the hourglass
As the last grain falls
And I am gone

So the birds talk about nothing
And the sun dries the old oak door
And the suds float back into clouds.