Your skin is freckled with neon-yellow highlighter
Ballpoint ink spiders across your cobweb eyes.
When you talk your lips are coated with yesteryear
(“The wise are never good, and the good never wise”)
I folded my heart in your dusty pages
And when I came back to collect it
There was nothing left in the place that it marked
Except a fading, pressed cowslip.
Christa… This is so good and you are just starting.You will now not be able to stop but this is indeed a poets thing. A lot of mystery.An enchanting play with words.Great work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I folded my heart in your dusty pages And when I came back to collect it There was nothing left in the place that it marked Except a fading, pressed cowslip- - - - - - We go back to the moments we cherish most because they are memorable like the lovely lines we read in a book and mark them with high lighter so that we can catch them when we require.But with time some events may change and we find that it is not what it was.