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#tucholsky
An egg, boiled fresh a matryeshka doll watches                                                      somewhere the last train                                                      makes it's way down the tracks past the lakes & the reticent pine trees                                                                       the street lamps                                                                       shine wearily                                                                                                 & again, the rain                                                                                      is starting up once more she reads Kurt Tucholsky ' Schloss Gripsholm' with a dictionary                                                                           writing down his odd words                                                                          daintily as if they were glass,   not to be handled except lightly                                                                    the city holds her                                                                                            like a child
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Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
dreams-of-sepia
3 a.m
An egg, boiled fresh a matryeshka doll watches                                                      somewhere the last train                                                      makes it's way down the tracks past the lakes & the reticent pine trees                                                                       the street lamps                                                                       shine wearily                                                                                                 & again, the rain                                                                                      is starting up once more she reads Kurt Tucholsky ' Schloss Gripsholm' with a dictionary                                                                           writing down his odd words                                                                          daintily as if they were glass,   not to be handled except lightly                                                                    the city holds her                                                                                            like a child
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