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friend poetry

traurig sprechend
lieben Sie mich schließlich oder, wenn Sie nicht werden
vor tausend leisen Jahren
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
grünes Nachmittagsserene und hell
Schatten legen entlang broadway
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
sehen Sie, daß ich Ihnen mich gebe
welches hält
das Licht zurückgenommen
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne

 



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