And now that it is dawn
And the sun will soon come over the mountain
My wife’s warmth keeps me warm
My scream of fear is now a murmur
She dries spittle from my beard and speaks softly
Soon she will get up and make coffee
I let the aroma envelope me
The terror of the night and death subsides and
I will try to be kind and
Believe in a God that will lift me up to his heaven
And let me live forever...
But who will publish my poetry collections?
