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haiku poem

die Luft ist wie ein Schmetterling
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
wie das Glätten fällt
denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
Melancholie, Blau war sie
weiße Schaumgummiblume, rote Flammeblume
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
ich halte Ihr Herz

 



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