By myself once more
Loneliness like dirty dishwater
swirling down a pipe
drains me
My wine is bitter
nights uninviting
my sheets somehow less white
against me only
I am setting a bad example
for myself
Soon though my ink
will invent new rainbows
there will be another
dream in my eye
but for now
the pages of my thoughts
reamain as bare
as the leathery landscape
of a desert
bereft of the relief
of comforting clouds and rain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem