(this poem is my mother's. She died this year but this poem was written by her when she was in college in the 1960's)
In the infinite blackness of time
Death lingers -
Silently it creeps
seeking its prey.
I feel your presence and
await your touch
that will transport me to another
dimension.
As my time nears
I feel myself
tremble.
I tremble -
not from fear of you but from wondering
what to expect in your
world.
My time is now.
Your touch is gentler than I expected.
Your world is perfect.
I fear it no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem