Ice on the windows
pretty little picture
breath rising up
in a grey miniature cloud
cold limbs shaking
beneath well wrapped layers
tired eyes in poor light
a winters hesitation
a pause to return to sleep
denied with reluctance
the journey to work
begun slowly, traffic lights
illuminate the radios songs
some gossip awaits
the thaw of morning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem