My neighbours in green, purpled by their roses
are my joy.
Caught in their beauty, amidst the splendour
is a melody.
That un broken echo of love,
through silence is worth remarking.
I looked up in nod, as if I understood their language,
But it mattered not how strange my presence,
how illiterate my mind,
only my presence.
All in a twinkle, neighbour insects fly,
and in a blink, they're back, flying
as if there were in palaces with no kings.
Through the purity of the winds,
the shrouds screened the sun and shaded
the undergrooves into discos,
drawing to meory a dancing pen dabbing wisdom.
That smell of the bloom bouquet loots
but the soul from worry.
I dance within with rhythm, for I know
the floating pines are a star of bles'ings.
Through a smile, I free my heart,
and learn to be wise in their midst.
Their secret lies unhidden,
because they're virgins sacred from filt.
Only the wise, knows what angle
a poem is arrowed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem