THE WINDMILLS OF YOUR OPINION. Christmas Harrison.

Rodney as a circle in a spiral.
As a wheel a wheel terminated never.
With the beginning on ooit spint a coil.
Like a snow mailbox below Mons or a Ball on carnival.

Like a roundabout,
the rotary operational sequence circle rings the moon.
Like a clock, of them the past hands minutes wipes off on its face.
And the world is noiseless as an apple, that in the split pin area.
How the circles, which find you.
In the windmills of your opinion.

Like a tunnel, you to a tunnel follow of its.
Below a recess at one get, where the sun never has eggplants.
As a door, which help verge ten turning in hold, dreams.
Someone throws as the rimpelingen kiezelsteen in a river.

Like a clock, of them the past hands minutes wipes off on its face.
And the world is noiseless as an apple, that in the split pin area.
How the circles, which find you.
In the windmills of your opinion.

The keys jingle in your bag.
The words the jangle in your head.
Why so much did it go fast the summer?
Something, which was so-called me?

Minna acre go along a coast.
And leaves its coinages of foot in the sand.
Tambouriné the noise far?
Only the fingers of your hand?

The pictures, which hang in hallway.
Or the fragment of a song.
The half reminded of names and the faces.
But, until that they belong?

They knew at this time that he was.
Were you consciously sudden?
That turned the serfs bladder on.
At the colour of it its?

Like a circle in a spiral.
Like a wheel a wheel.
The end never or the beginning.
On a coil ooit spint.
Since the pictures abspulen themselves.
How the circles, which find you.
In the windmills of your opinion.