Lonely in a garden of thoughts,
Missing spaces like queue of dots;
Measuring the length of my flaws,
Sobbing like a babe with no nurse.
Efforts being burnt-
By the fire of failure;
A garment I can’t flaunt
Because I hate the tailor.
Searching for answers
Like a floor with no dancers;
Yet does my thought tell of nothing
Even though my heart beats for something.
While nothing seemed to be coming
Then came Sarah with a calling;
Her first voice whispered “it is well“
As her soft touch tendered all it held.
Braced with the succulence of her breasts,
She fed me with the only kiss-
I ever blessed.
All my worries-
Transformed to evening breeze;
And my sagging face caressed with ease
Lady Sarah is my cure
Lady Sarah knew it all
Lady Sarah is my song
She is all I call.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem