Middle Eastern girl
I had a piece of cake
with cup of coffee
Timothy’s
The best part of cake
I ate with my eyes
I preserve
That sweet piece in mind
On paper
Her breasts
My right size
Moving up
Moving down
When she walks
Is fast; does not jug
Oh girl
Middle Eastern
Why not take me home?
Hide me in ocean’s dark night
of your eyes with stars.
Lower you head
Let your hairs fall
Turn my day to night
of desert…
My heart throbs
Do you hear
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem