Poezja

Early in the morning the sun gleams white and hot,
in the veldt full of cosmos you turn around and around
and I pick white and pink flowers.
 
You stand astounded with arms full
while I press some more into your hands
and when they wilt you are extremely happy
 
and your laughter resounds on the wind
while I try to find some more flowers
and like this we walk up to dusk.