Zywa Little Francis

She stands firm
please let me sleep
against her rough hair

which I brush
with my fingers
I should go home

I cannot stay here
shouldn't dirty my clothes
on the donkey and the stable

I cannot sing with the birds
on the land, like Francis did
my little Francis

I always carry him with me
let him slide in my hand
like my father used to do

Poem 1961
Amsterdam, 2018-12-05

1870, Doetinchem (pocket saint)
Collection: The Yellow House Museum 
Keyword: Example 
Keyword: Overijssel% 
Dedicated to: Cornel B 
Zywa
Home5-7-5
PencilPumiceRainLoves
CompressedBirdsIflessPhoto
Attention is like sunshineMention © Zywa when using texts,
drawings, designs, paintings and photos
Search word:  CTRL-F