In the white veil’s fog
your thoughts wander in circles
white powder coating –
a candy you taste on your
tongue.
Driving towards town
in a ghost bus
hoarsy cough from a lonely
passenger
a wolf between a flock o’sheep.
The poet being rattled along
tired frozen cobbles
between a sea of metal boxes
abandoned for another day
by their owners
running after hard-earned cash.
It supposed to become lighter –
lichtiger – as a mighty power
pushes grey clouds away.
Everybody wishes this
for the whole world.
zoltanzelan
ZJG-Poetry’16.
