forgive this
one my dear
i know it
fails your expectations
you love details
and color and scent
you love all the
particulars of the
human moment
each hour, even each
second
counts
a snap is needed
the sound of the clicking
of the knob
and the ticking of the
clock
inside that
vacuole room
but i honestly admit
i am busy
and busier than ever
i say what
i want to say and i
write what
is in my mind this
very moment
i have set aside
details
perhaps tomorrow or
on a sunday
when my feet are rested
upon the waves of the sea
when my mind hangs like
a baby on a cradle
or a depressed woman upon
a hammock
waiting for another
session with Sigmund.
i got to go
i have promises to keep
and miles to go
before i slip.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem