Isolated Poem by Dee Gey
Isolated
Slow rhythm of days,
like rhythm of tide and surf,
fine rain showers that
is plagued by monotomy
with no sense of urgency.
Slipped into silence,
nothing stimulates yearning,
subdued private thoughts,
unspoken and imprisoned-
succumbed to desperation.
On midnight stillness,
under the sickle moon lies
sentient part of me,
own voice whispering -
Be gone! alone, let me be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 11:57:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
You get the feel In this mood filled write.. Andrew 10