you feel it in the down of up
and how it never hits the ground
how very early close it seems
and hovers softly with no sound
in thinking this, I’m thinking now
of this and that and friends of theirs
of those and these and all what ifs
balanced on a sad breaths of air
what little is, is little does
you were in and then were out
like all the up that then was down
like all the trust that then was doubt
it was the way you held your head
when speaking of your dreams again
the birds and gravity and flight
the way that it was this and then
the way that up fell softly down
(it seemed to be a bitter sight)
the way you said that all things change
the way your left became your right
I cannot say I did not see
the day these words were said begot
it was a sunny fifth of May
but I have grown and have forgot
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem