Making a poem
of rainy days,
I waited behind
the closed window,
observing the clouds’
blear tracks to west,
an endless grey movement,
causing heavy fragrant winds.
A large river of clouds
rolling to the edge
of the horizon,
a deep melody,
deep like water
and moonless nights,
born in obscurity.
And I wait the soaring
hours of light,
to escape on
transparent pathes
from a world of
a patient born sorrow.
Hope is my friend.
Hope, lend me your hand
and your bark to row away
on the cloudy sea …
I could hardly resist
like a stony island
formed by roughness
and glowing knives.
My bottom is
slowly sinking sand.
Winds rot my thin top,
but I speak to the storms,
a solitary island
on a rainy day.
© Inge Hornisch
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Inge Offermann.
Published on e-Stories.org on 09.07.2009.
Articolo precedente Articolo successivo
Altro da questa categoria "Emozione" (Poems in inglese)
Other works from Inge Offermann
Vi è piaciuto questo articolo? Allora date un'occhiata ai seguenti: