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poem for dad

wenn ich sterbe, denken Sie nur dieses an mich
glooms der Lebeneichen
wenig Gatter wurde schließlich erreicht
im Hafen neuen Yorks
wenn es
Ruhe als die zweiter Sommer
stieg und Bernstein war der Sonnenuntergang auf dem Fluß
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
ich sah, daß Sie und shivering auf den Steinen hunched
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
ich halte Ihr Herz
die Schatten der Schiffe

 



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