On the streets,
a hard sun rising.
The beauty of the
flowers faded.
Scarcely had we met,
and it was already dawn –
leaving too much unsaid.
Now a new river calls,
and I float away –
quiet through bare trees.
Silent running
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 