Fairytales.

I want to tell you a story,
a story about a man,
who I hardly remember.
I've got a picture.
It shows this biker-guy with some kids of my street and me.
The boy ist sitting on his shoulders,
and he held my friend and me on his arms.
He's smiling.
I like this picture.
The man used to live in my neighbourhood.
I just remember good things.
He once gave a box with lots of little fairytalebooks to me.
These books are still somewhere in my house.
I loved them so much.
When I was about six or seven,
I realized that the guy isn't living around here anymore.
I aked my mum,
if she knew what happened to him.
She told me that some people say,
that he's in prison.

And I still remember,
how I could not understand,
why such a nice man could be in prison.
I still don't know if he really was in prison, or still is.

I think, that we should stop to judge about people,
if we don't know them.
I don't know what this man had done,
I don't know who he really was.
But for me,
he'll always be that nice Biker-guy.

Children don't judge.
Why should we?