He came once,
January was over,
smiling gently,
never a moaner.
English with A,
Swedish as well,
hard-working, ambitious,
German to say.
Polite and calm,
those thoughts keep him
awake until dawn,
but always smiling.
Never complaining,
he greets and asks:
How do you feel?
Rope jump training.
Intelligent of course,
movies, friends,
church and humour
till asylum ends.
Waiting daily
for her in bus,
telling her jokes,
comfort for us.
Grateful, heart-warming,
that Persian boy,
thoughts clouded with sorrow
instead of joy.
One day the sun shines bright,
covering lands and fields with light,
Where's your home?
She asks softly.
Once in Teheran,
North Sweden as well
- interrupted by ringing bell -
without losing his smile.
I love my family,
met nice girls,
but couldn't bound
to anyone else.
My life had luck,
I'm a mess,
you're caring,
honestly, I'm homeless.
YOU ARE READING
Touching poesy
RandomA collection of small works and ideas that have made themselves independent and strictly refused to remain locked in a drawer. Eine Sammlung kleiner Werke und Ideen, die sich selbständig gemacht und strikt dagegen gewehrt haben, eingeschlossen in ei...
