Close my eyes with snowdrops. Let me drink the silence drop by drop. The heart is again knocking timidly inside, as if wanting to ask “can I come in?” Should I let you in? What if I drown in spicy bird cherry petals, reminiscent of the snowiness of my hometown? I would now be sitting quietly on the floor behind the drawn curtains. I would turn the radio dial, trying to hear the words in the hiss. What if something important happens? And in a quiet voice you will whisper to me through the noise: “Hello, my joy...” I keep your intonations, you keep your phrases for me. Just don't flinch from surprise.