Saturday, 16 July 2016
My childhood trees stand tall in the grass
And shake their heads: what has become of you?
Rows of pillars stand like reproaches: you’re unworthy to walk beneath us!
You’re a child and should know everything,
So why are you fettered by your illness?
You have become a human, alien and hateful.
As a child, you talked with us for hours,
Your eyes were wise.
Now we would like to tell you the secret of your life:
The key to all secrets lies in the grass by the raspberry patch.
We want to shake you up, you sleeper,
We want to wake you, dead one, from your sleep.
Image (c) Jon Bunting 2013 CC by 2.0