When Miss Morning stood
at my door, I smiled
she lovingly held my hand
rubbed her nose on to my cheeks
gently touched my chin
I stepped in into her embrace
unabashed unshy uncaring
dancing hair on my head
pricking tears in my eyes
I felt her hand at my back
aching legs melted in agony
aching back vanished in love
tired neck -holding my head high
gave in easily
and so we stood
Miss Morning and I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem