Crescent moons and yellow glowing light bulbs.
Thoughts of a clover once held.
Plucking a crispy leaf of fall - and changing it's fate.
Moments in mind of my brothers eldest small one...and the smallest one.
Such big names they both carry,
Russian and German heritage,
history is yet nothing to them.
The real mother and the true mother,
both sharing the third and fourth wheel of a kids bike.
I swear at them all and they all get me,
so they laugh and let me.
They know me better than me.
Mom and dad and me somewhere in Europa,
I'm here, but they wish we were all here. I know.
Arabic blood in Denmark,
just long enough for me to see and sing a bit...with them.
The sun will be down and hiding under winter - until their flight.
And then it's sun up.
Wishing we could drink and get drunk and turn our bloody veins a tad thicker,
but roaming thoughts of midweek chores lead me elsewhere.
Not sure what to do,
five months been gone,
and now,
still,
understanding the carousel is spinning,
not waiting, forever changing, and what not, so on and all that...
I should grab a galloping horse very soon,
but, too many too much so fast so I wait.
Content, for now, amongst my wishful necessities not in my possession.
- I'll get them all once I'm done writing.
Billy Nabeel
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