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teen poetry

noch dreizehn Jahre
ich sah die erste Birne
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
der Körper kann begrenzen
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben
seien Sie nicht mit mir verärgert
Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
erinnern sich Sie
alter Wein zum Trinken
ca. beschwerte sich zum Meister
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus

 



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