Poemsonacircle

I make pancakes in the morning
hear the birds singing,
forget the syrup.
The sun shines into my kitchen.
I should be baking bread
in the old oven.
My head tells me that it´s not time.
The oven crumbles and whirrs.
It still works.
But the pancakes fill my stomach.
It would be better baking for you.

Last year in Spain
we met to talk
about your wedding shoes,
the singing and our plans
to go camping in Andalusia.
You wore no glasses but blinked at me
with the lights of your car.
We would never camp in Spain
our talk was in vain.
But we would see each other again
and sing again together
even if it was in plain weather and rain.