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mother poem

ich mag es
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
es gab ein strangeness auf Ihren Lippen
gloom
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
Sie sind schön und verblassen
hören Sie
ich habe die Welt geworfen
möglicherweise ist es gleichgültig, das Sie starben
das Emporheben, als der Wind brannte durch
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
um Mitternacht

 



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