Sunday Poem By Jurgen Uiterdijk

Home

Like an homecinema on your eye
You ask yourself why
What is home? The source?
Who is rich has never enough
And mislead himself
Who is poor
Perhaps the right to complain
One solution is given
The way inside is your name
With or without fame
I see my point on the horizon
Green grass of the heart
Water is enough to tell your story
With or without glory.

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