Poetry

At church square he stands just in front of the steps
and the statue of old uncle Paul
with a guitar in his hand
in a torn dirty jean
and the wind flutters the old washed-out shirt
of the curly head blonde singer
and he looks dumbfounded.
 
He notices people walking past
to offices, busses and cars
(and some of them are chatting)
and only a few does notice him,
leave silver
and even a bank note in his hat.
 
In his memories he goes back
to a time with food in the house
and his mother and father that did love each other,
to a time when life was still simple and free
and his eyes catch a bolt of lightning
that flashes blue-white in an open sky
and he wonders if it is later going to rain
while he plays and sings a sad song.