The end of my peer is an apparent horizon beginning beyond the
pearls of your caboose. We are cradled into a berth between wooden
tracks and the delicacy of your breasts. A rigid softness clings to
me a breeze off the ocean of your hair holding sway upon the clutch
of our embrace. A foreign affair in the sovereign state that is you. The
sign says, “To Begin Again Start Here, ” and the enchantment of your
breeze drapes over me.
As I travel the world, I will carry the stamped fragrance of your hair
in the passport of my journey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem