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footprint poem

an der Dämmerung sagte er
Glasbläser der Zeit
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
ich ging auf und ab die Straßen
Roses und Gold
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
ich starrte den prachtvollen Himmel an
dunkel-eyed
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
süsses splendor
jetzt für einen lebhaften und freundlichen Kampf

 



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