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poem for dad

seien Sie nicht mit mir verärgert
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
hoch-getragenes Rennen
haben wir keine Schande?
während ich das Hören stand, diskret dumb
und so geht sie
ihr Gesicht ist angemessen und glatt und fein
unsere angenehmen Momente fliegen
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts
dort durch das Fenster im alten Haus
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
ich sah die erste Birne
unter dem Erntemond

 



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