S chwungvoll He haute another bucket on top.
The child howled for joy. It was hands full approached stones. Disappeared into the jungle to search for sticks. They grinned two already with its narrow stone mouths. She stood at the plate. Inside. And the feverish forehead cooled to the glass. The joy that was going on out there on, put the child on her arm. It looked thrilled by the glass, yelling to his sister. Her eyes wandered over the bare hillside, however, snowy, cold winter into the sky. "It looks like more of" you thought. "And they announced it, too." The sight of you was chilling and be quiet.
"He keeps us comprises of winter."
were now distributed noses, and arms. Thin sticks, long sticks and orange beets. Small spots of color in the gray-white landscape. You still stood silently at the window, the child giggelte happy in her arm. At that moment, looked at the Great come to her. Discovered. And suddenly it was over, the happy game. "MAAAMAAAA ..." schluchtzte it up the hill and down again and her through the window. The child's snowman turned his back and rushed to the door. The snow men stare from large pebbles behind him. Furthermore, laughing. Only they could not wave, the rigid comrades.
They were probably the only ones who enjoyed the frosty cold.
0 comments:
Post a Comment