Shall we dance
were asking the lanterns
on the ceiling
attached by metal but freer
than the boy in the chair
looking up, reaching high
for something always out of his reach
shall we dance
his mother asked him
but her ghost faded
when the boy so tenderly
held out his hands
to be caught in endless hope
and neverending love
for something only real in his dreams
the painting of his fathers ship
rocked him to sleep
and he continued his feverish quest
for a treasure filled with stories
of pure gold
like the setting sun
in the old rose garden
the statues of holy men
embellished by scars of loneliness
traced by their ancestors‘ thorns
wild roses hanging
from the violet sky so soft
like a flowers‘ leaf
as raindrops would too
if they were not to fall down
Upon the boys eyes
like tears from heaven
to lift him
and bring him home