BALL OF CRUMBS
one by one he collected
his crumbs
yellow, orange, blue crumbs
coarse green crumbs
he looked at broken statue
let it crumble in his hands
little sparkling crumbs
mixing in with coloured crumbs
tiny last crumbs
fell inside the wooden box
covering the bottom nothing more
little coloured some sparkling crumbs
he closed the box
as a silent tear wrinkled down his cheek
he walked outside in misery
went down the garden path
with a trowel in hand
slowly but certainly he dug the last resting place
of crumbs nothing more then crumbs
he opened the box for the last time
to say some final words
when he picked up some crumbs to shape a ball
inside the ball of his hand
slowly turning shaping adding
more crumbs
the ball grew inside his hands
until no crumbs were left inside the wooden box
he stood up with the ball still rolling inside his hands
inside he placed the ball on the south facing windowsill
looking at all them coloured tiny sparks
table was moved in front of the ball of crumbs
took his typewriter sat down
with a white piece of paper winding down inside
he stretched his long skinny fingers out to the sky
started writing letter by letter a changing letter
after Subject: came the relieving word
resignation
with closed lips he whispered towards the ball of crumbs
thank you
for my sparks and colours in my vision
letter by letter he wrote, patient polite words
left with his hand-written name and signature bigger than all letters
he left to start again
a ball of crumbs
Roos Zwart 