Zywa
The green
My second year, sweet gruel
that I loved to eat for years to come
my dear mama and her will
in the green of her eyes
The garden, unlimited
my world, away from mama
as far as I could, crawling
in the green of the grass
Rides in the stroller
through the Promenade Woods
the endless sky
in the green of the trees
the play of swaying
light and dark spots
the beckoning sky
in the green of my awareness
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