Mind opening doors and windows, airing out the wide
open spaces hiding in imaginative intellect.
Awaiting the scent of roses after they've bloomed
to enter the atmosphere within.
Feeling expressive thoughts and textures being
straightened and ironed out.
A very pleasant experience that needs to be done
every so often as I write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem