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thanksgiving poem

sie limps mit dem Anhalten des schmerzlichen Schrittes
denken Sie, mein Junge, wenn ich meine Arme um Sie setze
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
noch dreizehn Jahre
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
von FuĂźboden zu Decke
in allen Sachen gesprochen nicht von
fĂĽr Wahrheit fĂĽr Liebe

 



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