The poet in his little house....
The poet in his little house,
close to the sea.
He saved beautiful words,
that he put in a tiny box.
The box was getting full.
The poet was getting empty.
He did the box open.
And the poet was silent.
The words got wings.
They flew away.
They flew in a beautiful magical V.
In search of someone listening.
In the branches of a weeping-willow
or in a field of corn,
you can, when you are quiet,
hear the words sometimes.
They sing about peace and happiness,
and about the silence of the poet by the sea.
The poet saved this beautiful words,
that he put in a little box.
Just a remember how we should live all together: plants, animals, humans, .... :
Live all in harmony with each other so that we do not reach false tones in the music of life !
(thanks to pixabay)
