Gedicht
Adrian Mitchell
BEATTIE IS THREE
BEATTIE IS THREE
BEATTIE IS THREE
At the top of the stairsI ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.
© 1975, the estate of Adrian Mitchell
From: The Apeman Cometh
Publisher: Jonathan Cape, London
Audio recording: Poetry International Festival, Rotterdam, 1983.
From: The Apeman Cometh
Publisher: Jonathan Cape, London
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BEATTIE IS THREE
At the top of the stairsI ask for her hand. O.K.
She gives it to me.
How her fist fits my palm,
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.
From: The Apeman Cometh
Audio recording: Poetry International Festival, Rotterdam, 1983.
BEATTIE IS THREE
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