Passing birds

Working with people is a bless

You get to know new perspectives of life

New thoughts about nature

Music, You have never heard before

Moments of laughter and silence

New souls to discover

Lifestories which teach You for better living

You can care for all of them

and get something in return

At least a pleasant smile

You can ignore their being and get nothing

Not eaven the work

Thow there are also harder parts in that work

Let's say Erasmus students

they come and go almost every semester

New persons twice a year

but in basis the same questions

the same partys day after day

the same mingling stories

lovestories which were not ment to last

the same leaving

People come and go

They eaven take themselves like that

They love the lightness of their life here

They don't have to care what people think about them

They just act like birds of passage

They know they will leave

and the stories will be forgotten

I guess,

i will never learn to take them as the birds

from the very first moment

For not giving away parts of me

I get in touch with them with all my inner motion

I have tried not to

But i can't care partly

I am as i am, there is no other me

The hardest is always the last couple of weeks

The birds are like escaping from their own freedom

They do the things what they only could imagined

And the things they never thought they are capable of

There plenty of stories which are too hard to listen

Too much of everything

It is like making the last staying impossible

for better leaving, with the thought: "I will be better at home"

Why this crashing against the wall for hurting the wings?

The last ones have closed themselves to small glass box with opened door

They become more and more close

they eaven hurt eachother and make up again

They say things they don't mean

and boast the things they do mean

They eaven cry

not knowing why

The emotions are growing very high

The door is opened

people leave one at the time

Still the drinking and partys last

till the final night

After all of that silence falls down on the city

We keep on living

the storm will end

We pretend it never happened

and still solve the stories years ago

Said and un-said words

They still are a passing birds, which fly

fly...... away