Poetry

When the windows of your soul are closed with tiredness,
when you turn, to lie spooned against me,
am I then out of all of your thoughts
or do you want me to cuddle me in your dreams?
When I feel your breath softly against my cheek,
are we then still walking together in your paradise
or are your sleep closed, just meant for you
or do you want to show me the most beautiful flowers
or is there a wall that rises when you are asleep?