my white room


i never saw a moor—
i never saw the sea—
yet know i how the heather looks
and what a billow be.

e.d.



5/8/12



when we met, you said the larch grows right in front
of your window and cones - balls are falling down
from soft branches with dark germs


after seven years i go to the park, sit on the bench
look up and see your tree. little drawing. love you so much









































4 comments:

thank you
for taking time
and leaving a word,
i will reply right here.

warmly,
olga.




olga