On the edge of two countries
where both try their best
in parks, water and culture,
is where many walk and stroll
under rapid clouds...
Clouds that chase so fast
and never catch each other
but merge in one white sky
that bleaches the light
into various colors.
Into various shades and darks
as contrast where the two unite
in need of each other
because there would not be a border
if one of them not exists.
Farmland in yellows and greens
shapes the horizon of trees,
of a waterway that glides into towns
where ships never know
on which side they are.
To which party they belong;
just where their home is,
is not here in borderland
at this unrecognizable borderline,
there where two countries merge.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten