Prose 3 Poem by Susan Garfunkel
Prose 3
He's way older than me. They all tell me. How many more times must I hear this said.
I love him and yet I find no
agreement, Or Sympathy. I ask why, and there's no answer.
They don't see him the way I do.
I think I better just run off into the dark with him. How is it love makes us do crazy unthinkable things I ask. But for what craziness it does. I couldn't imagine living without it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/28/2024 12:37:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
