Not a poem for sure


My fellow country-men,

I might sound absurd
When I wonder where my home is

I might sound sick
When I ask myself: Has ever mum enjoyed her womanhood?

I might seem crazy
When I dream of floating above my body

I might sound infidel to fate
When I Only think about earth and nothing above it

Grapes are drying on the branch
While I'm thinking about wine
I go crazy
Every time she knocks on my door
And shows up in a dream

But I feel sane
When I say poetry can save the world.