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child poetry

ich wundere manchmal, mich wenn es wirklich zutreffend ist
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
weich weinend
die einzelne zusammengeprgessene angehobene Faust und bereiten vor
und mit dem Summenvogel
ihr schönes Haar
sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
diese Herzen wurden von den menschlichen Freuden und Obacht gesponnen
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
die kleinen weißen Gebete

 



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