When somebody dies
When somebody dies
his surroundings remain:
The distant mountains
the houses in the block
and the Sunday road which
passes over a wooden bridge
just before leaving the town.
And the spring sunshine
which in early afternoon
reaches a shelf with books
and magazines which doubtlessly
once were new.
It’s not the least bit strange.
Even so, I’ve often wondered about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment