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baby poem

ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend
lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
machen Sie sich nicht um das unsichtbare Sorgen
hängen Sie keinen Wreath
ihr schönes Haar
Nacht war schwarz und drear
ich sah ihn einmal vorher
mit den meek, braunen Augen
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins

 



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