The Breath.
Easily in and out you breathe, with lungs
unsullied by cigarette smoke, siesta nap
a lazy Sunday on afternoon when flowers
wilt and sky is recklessly nude
Breathtaking, the silence, if you should
stop; I would fall down a chasm of pale
rainbows, stillborn moons, rusty stars
where words of love are unheard of.
Inhale and exhale my dear, snore too if
you must, but don’t leave me alone in
city parks where old men sit spit and tell
passersby how old they are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
there is always a brighter side to city parks. be alone and look for gold jan.