It's autumn and the air is cold
I'm on my way back home from work
But this evening a strange feeling surrounds me
I notice quiet sounds in the dark

As I turn around
I look into the eyes of a young girl

We talk and chat
Her questions - so naïve
Though she seems to see through me

She ask if firemen always burned books
Because she heard about men extinguished fires

What a weird idea
Books must burn
That's our job
She askes if I ever read a book
I'm taken aback
That's a crime
Curious questions from a peculiar girl

Her presence is so strange
I feel like an open book
And she reads between the lines
The media tells us everything
So I haven't had any questions in the past
She asks if I'm happy
I have no answer to this question

What is so special about this girl?
She seems to see more than others
Such an open hearted mind

Soil and green
Rain drops and foliage
She lifts it all up to a higher level by reflecting on it

We meet again
Her questions - still naïve
Though she really gets through to me

She says that I'm not like the other firemen
Due to the fact that I look at her when she talks

There's a glimpse of truth
Many people talk but nobody listens
She makes me reconcider so much
Opens new lines of thoughs
Maybe there's something special about written words?