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Bart De Win

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Bart De Win

Gone

The grounds I walked when I was small
Days of dreaming, the dinner call
Birds in boxes and a crazy dog
Green, green grass, the garden fog
Gone, gone, gone

The sounds so weak at the top of the stairs
The colored leaves from everywhere
The giant tree, the pigeon cloud
The singing priest, imaginary crowd
Gone, gone, gone

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Stone on stone and wood on wood
Wandering through the neighborhood
Searching for beech nuts in the lane
Splashing through the summer rain
Struggling with a tattered kite
Friday nights in black and white
Litter burning in the yard
A solid frame, a tender heart
Gone, gone, gone