08 Januar 2010


between the fisher boats a young voice in the air
the waves wash the memories back to the shore
the wind pushes them out into the sea again
the laughter  towards me
carry into the wooden booth
the past the presence mixed up in this time
the treasures stories days years are lying in front
disappear into the pieces made of wood
stored by the heat
searching roots in the sand
faceless the youth of the child
a misty look drugged in the morning
lost childhood future far away on the sea

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