HEY! My sky,
How old are you?
What is your colour?
Why you not talking with me,
I am your friend…..
Apart my violin, I hold you in my heart
But the dropp gone as the sun shine comes
I can’t see you, but your shadow on my way
I succeeded on feeling of you
As a master of the universe
We make mistakes of scraping you
Your heart been cracked
Cracked and curate of church
Not helped me, to make greenly.
IP
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Seems to be a mental outlet or therapy talking to the sky....nice