Her charcoal-gray purse is tattered,
just like her heart.
She keeps holding onto it,
rubbing the shredded leather strap,
as if it's the only thing
keeping her apart
from the only man
she will ever truly love.
Lucid as any woman can be,
she holds her beautiful dreamer,
wrapping herself in his ashen white arms.
Her heart beats wildly against his chest,
as if he will never wake
from her unsettled rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful dreamer. good write. I like it. I invite you to read my poems and comment.