A sad relief sweeps over me
now that parting is decided
All talked out our minds
drift in to their individual boxes
Made of teak, velvet lined
insulated,
impregnable,
soundproof.
The Angels though
have a loud voice
that sneaks in
through the cracks
drifts through
the keyhole
finds me and
whispers
insistantly
amazingly I listen
I then find you
The boxes open
Maybe there is a tomorrow for us
after all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem