Yinglish Strophes VI -- Thomas Fink

He sleeps, he sleeps.

Nature tells you to be still already.
Now is the ice December

when the old. . . .
1905 I came
the freedom land.

That should go well
my family.
Lately my children finished the middle age.
Me still sitting crooked this chair
against the television.

He sleeps.
No more 66 years.
Me still greenhorn on the mouth.
Is what you asking
my three words poetry
learning the future.

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