Silently thinking in a corner of this mind, wanting to
exchange some thoughts, but never can, because of a
photographic memory always having its say in everything.
Never able to tell a lie, because everything felt is to-
tally honest to the core, finding beauty and wonder in
all that is seen.
Wanting to be in measures of time, listening to melodies
and harmonies, feeling safe, secure and protected all the
time.
Sensing that God's always here, needing nothing else from
anyone, content to be alone, listening to music and writ-
ing prose to rhythms being heard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear RoseAnn, such a splendid poem....