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retirement poem

ich bete nicht für Frieden
er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte
ich mag es
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
in Ihren Armen war ruhige Freude
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
ich bot sie aller Abschied
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang

 



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Should you Refinance?

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