Sometimes I write by candle light
just like the old masters used to do
at the loneliest time of the day
when the evening shadows fall.
In the quiet of the evening
our mind makes up imaginary places
and things we’d like to do.
Some are erotic and others are not.
We feel we are free from our restraints
and we can do almost anything we wish.
We can be rich and the greatest person
alive in our imagination
Reality we leave far behind
when we follow our imagination
through the corridors
of our make believe worlds.
31 July 2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem