(c) Jannike Kayser      









With bricks of butterflies

I am rebuilding my house now,
after days and weeks
of sorrow,
The bricks are living butterflies.
Every day
I build it closer together
with warm, handy hands.
But I can no longer hear scornful
and I can no longer read
the condescending
But I can see smiling
and I can hear people who praise
me in their tea-rooms
All this wonder
is rooting in my heart.
like apple tree-bloom
in spring dew,
here I sit in my house
of living butterflies
thinking of You

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