Grandfather’s alley
The walls lean over
bowing to each other
out of mutual respect
for their weather-beaten
and moss-covered words
amalgamated into every stone
Grandfather’s workshop…
was it by this door
or by this one,
or was it this…
the light particulates
along the columns of bricks
diffuse, glistening
I walk to the end of the alley
and lose myself in memories
Oeke Kruythof
Jenny Narraway translation/transcreation