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child poem

gebildet vom loveliness alleine
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
es gibt ein, das dieses i einmal so sehr liebte
so verloren
alter Wein zum Trinken
lassen Sie nicht hören
ich habe eine Furcht in meinem Leben gehabt
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
einige windigere Tage
ist häufig er nicht so?
eins nach dem anderen wie verläßt von einem Baum

 



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