MORNING AND EVENING SONG Poem by Nachoem M. Wijnberg

It is silent above my head,
below my feet,
the dark's not cold, the light's not warm;
when morning or evening comes running up
it's to bring me something to read.

A book I want to keep
or take with me when I travel;
on the first page
I stopped reading three times
and each time I could have stopped longer.

I suddenly dare to say
I want you;
if you suddenly don't want to any more
I have to accept it,
like when morning or evening don't want to any more.

What you gave me,
not starting today
with what was taken from me
or abandoned by me
and is now spread over mornings and evenings.

When I was a child
I lived in a house
I still have the key to
because I had to hold it in my hand
in the morning when we left to travel until it was evening.