Jan Hauck (June 1,1978)
The sun is hiding behind clouds,
I did not invite her.
My night ends, your day starts,
But we are all tired, so tired.
The same sort of tired, birds know it first,
I wish you a good night, I go to sleep,
Locking the sun out,
The blanket is a better friend than busy light,
The birds do not know that.
And then my self goes traveling,
I leave you all to it,
Your toils, lawn mowing and driving,
I do not know what is more real to me or you,
Eight hours here, eight hours there,
But the sun will be gone again when I return
To my morning, the birds asleep,
While you do not know I exist,
And I barely know it myself.
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