A poem

I feel morose, lay myself down

I have no soul

that loves me, no soul at all!

at my window

ghosts, ancestors gather around

he is blind they sigh,

when the child is ready he may see

all the love

that surrounds him, poor child.

at my window

I saw a starling startled fly away

yet I had made no move

it was perfectly still outside that day.

C