Jump the gun
In your own good time
Listen to the sound
Of your gray morning wind chimes
Jump the gun
Down the quiet country grove
Think about love
In your salty sea-washed cove
It's not a lot
But it's still too much
Forget-me-not
Remembered as such
Jump the gun
Through all the seasons of play
Live in the past
And watch as it washes away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem