Goblin

A little grey goblin lives in my house;
I wish I could see him, but he always hides.
I call him and feed him with my dreams and jokes,
And he entertains me with nonsence and hopes.

Sometimes he finds me my old copy-books
Where I wrote my poems and drew caricatures,
Or helps me to throw something away,
Or wispers the script of incredible play.

He's my inspiration, I'd better believe,
That he does exist and will never leave.
And maybe, some day my invisible friend
Appears before me as he is, in the end.

01.12.2000.


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