The Westermarkt
Naar vriendschip, zulk een mateloos verlangen
We could be darkened by the flame
That burned the books in every room,
Or burdened endlessly by names
Piled in a ditch, bone on bone.
But look: the children climb across
The polished granite like a toy
And bless again what wasn't lost:
The boundless friendship of our joy.
© 1998, Louis G. Ceci