I feel the rain on my face
Cold and misty day in the forest.
Almost mysterious
Like my personality,
Somtimes angelic, and devilish.
Who could read her mind?
It's like a book,
Concealed in the pages of her intellect.
To know her is to read her.
I'm tired but this brain isn't.
It's nagging me to do more,
My body is frozen like my computer screen.
But this brain is logged in,
Like the memory of my hard drive,
Feeding me with information.
But I must scream!
I want to shut off this big brain,
But it keeps on downloading,
It must been the caffeine.
I drank coffee at work to keep me awake.
So am fired up and all wired
Like a cable connection,
Or my nerve ending is working
Devilish I am this morning
My friend bear with me,
I must keep on going.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem