Time is the shifter.
I too a young drifter.
Beginnings and ends.
Tuning corners and bends.
Walls painted over.
A Victor dawns clover.
A spec or a racer?
Or Stop. Watch. Embracer.
The blur of a coupe,
Threw my head for a loop.
Smoke lingers;
drifts and then parts.
Track laced with scars,
And tread marks of hearts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoyed your poem, especially the two lines, A spec or a racer / Or Stop. Watch. Embracer. Skillfully composed!