At Dawn - Warm Pictures (29) Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

***
at dawn I can always hear.
the same he is driving up
to the shop and loud
he is letting know

that it is already at least still,
he is heard miles away.
he is like a little dumpling,
with short legs is feeling important,

because he is only needed,
for somebody, for something,
for me not!
I can still sleep, but when

I am closing my eyes,
I can see the large dumpling,
and I feel like stabbing,
with the fork...