Da capo every year

Time moves quickly
On a Sundays
A lot of things
To be done
A lot of family
To interact with
Family diners
And the annual
Easter torture week
Every year the man
Dies on a Friday
And is reborn on Sunday
Every year I do not
Know what to do about it
What would have happened
If he instead of going to
Jerusalem that pitiful pit
On a mountain slope
He decide let us go
To Tel Aviv
Have a beer
Relax
Let´s make som miracles
By the sea
Putting our bare feats
In the warm sand
And watch the ocean
What would Easter be then?

Advertisements
About

I am who I was when I wrote this text but I do not know if I exist now. I am from Scandinavia where the arctic starts and the world ends.

Tagged with: , , , , ,
Posted in change, Easter, Poem, Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: