As the wind blows the more petals and leaves
fly by my feet. An object taking space where,
the wind wants to blow, playing tug of war.
But, watching the petals and leaves,
everyone gets blown by the wind.
The awe of them tangling and rubbing together,
different colors and shapes.
As the object kneels to the wind, in defeat.
It's whispers, it's nice to meet you,
lets never meet again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very interesting and thought provoking. Leaves and petals and people come and go.