Poetry and prose
Are like an itch
I suppose,
That you can't quite reach.
But scratch it if you can
Cause it wont go away.
No need to plan,
What to write or say.
Just let the words bubble forth
And maybe, just maybe
What you write will be of worth
So others will say, Elke Nigro passed this way.
s
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem