That child
with the wise sad glance
The one that kept dying slowly-slowly
today it came down from the newspaper photo
and disassembled my house
Food supplies clothing furniture
it gathered them a pile of smithereens mixed up
and obstructed my exit
And the books laughing at me
Then it died out on my armchair
And the books crying
Neither may I burry it
Nor leave it out of my sight
And the books shouting out
Not even bringing it to life again may I
I was thinking…
I was thinking…
And the books leaving
© Manolis Messinis