between flowers
between seasons
i stand here
surrounded by colours
magenta orchids
and simple buttercups
there are little purple flowers
which i do not know the name of
and they are
quivering in the wind
i talk to my father
about his childhood
we discuss life and death
and other trivial topics
my mind keeps wandering
to different places
and it keeps wondering
where are they?
the forest
is moving
the huge boughs are now rich
with leaves
thick and green
the wind
moves them
just like the moon
moves the ocean
it makes
a deep sound
like an old man's sigh
which echoes
in the depths of the forest
i could observe
each single detail
but standing here
i can simply
exist
