Solitude Poem by Minnie Gehrig

I do not seek these thoughts,
My bed must be woven from them,

So every night as the moon,
brushes my eyes with her kisses,
10 years of memory pass before me,

There canvases each more colorfull, brilliant,
Painted by loves cruel hand,
in the blood of my soul,

Until my bed is not the soft blue anymore,
but dessert sand
My body finds itself rested in,
Cutting diamonds into my cold solitude................