Walking, head down
lost in thought
I stopped at the sound
of screeching tires
I almost stepped
in front of the car
while crossing the street
The lady in the car,
young, red hair, freckles
impatiently beckoned
in my direction
Soon there was screaming
and scrambling
skinned knees on pavement
I'm sorry - I thought
you were saying I should get in the car,
not that I should cross.
I thought you thought we could be friends.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem