longingand then the painful days of longing for—
and then the waiting time of feeling numb—
i started first by knocking at the door...
which then was opened wide for me to come!
the days of bliss, of joy so light and gay—
the days that push so many round the bend—
living in the moment of our play...
and laughing at the thought that it should end.
we part and try to keep our heads up high—
we part and promise we will keep in touch—
then i get into the plane to fly...
i land at home and then i feel so much
like a sonnet with a line too few...
poems i have written: