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grandmother poem

Nacht war schwarz und drear
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
ich wundere mich, wo Sie leben
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
er spricht nicht gut
um Mitternacht
sie konnte ihn im früheren Frühling gekannt haben
erklären Sie mir nicht
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
aus dem Fenster heraus ein Meer der grünen Bäume
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
weiße Schaumgummiblume, rote Flammeblume
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er

 



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