I really hate the wideness of the Pacific Ocean.
Because I always remember how far you are from me.
I can only call you but the caller tone seemed too long.
It's good to hear your voice but I'm still drowning in Dead Sea.
Days have passed and a page was left empty and too boring.
I don't have the courage to write on it, unless I'm with you.
'cause when I'm with you, the black ink has been so colorful.
No one can see that, just the two of us, TWO OF US.
I miss the wet season and yet the gleeful sound of rain
Playing and running in the rain like being a rascal.
Now, in this very hot summer,
I'm slowly burning down.
I can't afford waiting to see and feel the rain, again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
playing and running in the rain. good poem. I invite you to read my poems and comment.