Now I see,
that all the colours
have bled.
In the kindergartens,
the hospitals,
and the living rooms.
The spring forgotten
for the children
that die alone.
As the earth spins
into another silence.
The soul of the sunflower
Now I see,
that all the colours
have bled.
In the kindergartens,
the hospitals,
and the living rooms.
The spring forgotten
for the children
that die alone.
As the earth spins
into another silence.
A Wandering Poet 