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.



this is like
                      haiku   -

this paper was torn apart some days ago and i never knew
that among all the animals and insects i drew that evening
these were from one piece, from the very beginning

winter. waiting for the first snow. this birthday
was fragile. but at the end, good, in all ways

1 comment:

  1. dear olga,
    your image is a wonderful visual poem.
    delicate as are your drawings.
    we are also longing for snow.


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