A slice of pizza
on the worktop
with a cheesy grin,
waiting for the leaver
of left overs to turn over
a new leaf in autumn,
or turn a churn of milk
in midsummer nights,
dreaming, of creamy delights -
and flights
of fancy
and fear -
after lowering
a loved one deep down
in your heart
down into the grave
in a cool box
for a cold blue sleep,
then a beer
to wash it all,
down with a frown
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem