Early in the morning with warm blankets
wrapped so snugly round that no cold air
can find a way to reach my body bound
and mind, not so softly wrapped but free to roam
hypothesises on the days events not yet told
with some darkness lurking in unspoken thoughts
and regrets, born of a shamefulness of past events
that will not sleep and come to rest.
Emerging just a little from a cocooned existence
perchance a sweet scent is on the air
and I remember it is you, who is always there
at my side no matter what might happen
through the other presence of that impostor pride
and as I rise you shower me with such love
that sunbeams are made of, through a light
that most subtle shines and leaves no shadow
for my pride to hide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful penwork of sound and sense, Taylor.