He sat and stared
And thought of nothing
Eyes all searching
Seeing nothing
Blindly blinking
Thinking nothing
Words and papers poised
For anything
Into space he surely drifted
Floating dreaming waiting
Nothing
Hearing squeaking
That was something
Someone scribbling
While he rusted
But it was nothing
Whiteboard blank
Erased and dusted
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem