Someone came slowly towards me,
hat over his forehead,
hand shading his eyes,
an off-duty poet.
On his T-shirt the words:
I speak the language of Paradise.
He walked right through me
and took the last train,
the one meant for me.
No idea, what became
of me. Of the truth
we know only the lousy lesson.
After the Rain
AuthorMichael Krüger