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autumn poem

wenig Park, den ich durch führe
ich bildete ein Versprechen einmal, eins nur
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
Dame, Ihr Herz hat an Staub gewendet
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
weiße Schaumgummiblume, rote Flammeblume
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
das kleine mitfühlende, getragen, Lachengesichter
ein Blick ist aber ein Strahl
nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein

 



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