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grandmother poem

lassen Sie mich durch die Straße langsam bewegen
aber ich kann nicht Sie jetzt lesen
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
sie in der Schwärzungsversammlung und bitten
Stern-Staub und vaporous Licht
machen Sie sich nicht Sorgen, daß er rüber sein
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
burly, DösenHumblebiene

 



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