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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?