The coffee on your desk
is now lukewarm;
ants feasting a whip
of marmalade.
Still without a clue.
I have come a long way
for this; played death
with the customs
and knocked down
some punks in the alley.
It seems like
I don't have to unpack.
The pilot will be richer
by half and the cab driver
calls this a luck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice write Melanie, neat and to the point, very well constructed. Enjoyed it. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX