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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
In school we learn a lot about German grammar. Today Iˋve been in the city and there I went to the library. I was pretty surprised, because I got nearly all the books I had been looking for. I even borrowed a thick Grammar book where all the rules are in. There is enough time to learn from it, before the first term will start in school.
After I ˋd taken the books to the car I saw on the car park ticket that there is some time left before the parking tiime is up. I decited I should go to the Italien food shop, where the assistant is seldom nice. It may be, that itˋs their proud of nationality that comes through.
I asked him if he offers buffalo mozzarella, which he affirmed. He neither wanted to show me the cheese nor was he sure what the price would be.
Nevertheless I bought a piece and paid over € 7, it was a small ball. I thought to myself the cheese comes from far down of Calabria, because of the price.
I had to go home early, because Iˋd left my girl there. This morning she reseived a large parcel where all her new uniform was inside. She was fond to show me them all. She looked nice in the outfits of a cook, business clothes, waitress. Guess what kind of school sheˋs going to attend?