| |
A letter from a friend
arrived today.
Tidbits of news,
the local flood
and all results
of football matches.
A clipping fell
from in between
the pages,
it caught my eye.
And it was you,
my friend
of old,
we could not ever
forget you,
'Dickerle',
named Robert.
It took some time
for printed matter
to reach the shores
of my small island.
But I am happy
that it has
now landed.
And now I sit
and plan
the trip,
that was not on
until
twothousandsix.
We need to
have a talk
at your new home.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
|
User Rating: |
|
4.0
/10
(6 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend