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i miss you poem

ich bin der Wind, der wavers
hoch-getragenes Rennen
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
weich weinend
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
fĂĽr dann auĂźen
ist häufig er nicht so?
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
unter einem ausgebreiteten Kastaniebaum
vor er war viele und viel einem Jahr
er wird gegangen
ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs

 



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