Pierrot

Pierrot never falls
he sits on the moon so tall
he looks at it all
the big and the small
without resistance
he calls in the distance
drops a moon-flower bright
it shines in contrast
like the ocean in Greece
blue and green
sparkling free
he looks with his crown
on a feather brown
its fallen from an owl
hunting in the shine of the night
between the fireflies fine
yellow stars says hello
to a driving car on the road
that with its front lights bright
waves back, to Pierrot wild
now in the summer mornings flair
morning dust comes like a gain
that washes, Pierrots troubles away.