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mom poem

entlang einem River-side
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
Musik I hörte mit Ihnen war mehr als Musik
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
für diese weißen Arme über meinen Ansatz
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
ich erwarte Sie
ich bin alt und blind
Sie sagen, daß Sie mich lieben
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
in den Wolke-grauen Morgen
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert

 



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