Leaning against the wall,
Twirling my jacket’s cord
Round my graceful fingers.
Looking tragically bored,
With a delicate turn of lip.
One foot ‘cross the other
Toe down, heel up.
Wondering why I even bother.
A slow yawn in back of hand,
Long blink, like an owl.
Eyes sliding over the land
With utter disinterest.
Daring the awed hoi poloi
To step to and and say hello.
Reservedly dark, darkly coy,
Staring the world down my nose.
One brow raised, asking if
They really think they’re all that fine,
If they dare compete with this.
With final melancholy sigh,
Lethargically walk away,
Mysterious, serene am I,
Suavely off to some soiree.
Let them all wonder why.
I don’t care to live or die.
I’ll take it all with a tragic sigh.
Well-practiced in this art am I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Gorgeous, like a model. or a professional poet. Nice to see you break away from the discipline. can ya give some of it to me.. love, Sus