Our fathers got the pink

pathfinding glory days sold.

That young mother it all had started with

has long frozen off the branches.

Sorrowful tear-solders moarned our loss

for them who got the hardest part done.

That is an autumn Christmas tree

autumn-coloured but a

true winter feel with pine.

I made an exhibition for their memory

as a theme-park railway for kids.

You see, they always get the point

they tend to understand even the ugliest gnomes

and not understand the simples things in the meantime.

About the power plants and plant-powers

no press, no comment please.

I mean pick the shape of the clouds

and the lights and it is already

a different altar for another prayer.

Grandma's Christmas

and Leda's winter attitude

those fire-artists

my cat on the shoulder

to see Enrico again

and Bogi

the sleeping super bar

and the maestro

Andi and Andras

the lamplights

Judit's hunger for beauty

Orsi's fancy hat

to ride a horse

all got a corner

in the garden

I built for the

goods

my fathers have sold to me.