As i stood benieth
the tall trees
i saw a old deer stand
hidden from view...
where the presence
of hunters
can not be seen
across the fields.
a pond sits behind me
cold and inviting..
soon the footprints
that seem to stroll
so peacefully
across the white field
will cease to be.
someone will be waiting....
unlike me
the shots will capture
a life
not a moment...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem