As the streets slow
and the night thickens its pace
until the dawn rewards the race
the slow melting thoughts of verb
that would silently be herd
stretch the wires of time
placing thee with thine
and as the last dropp of wine
flows off the lip of glass
we shall return to a blade of grass
For sun nor moon nor day nor night
only you put mine heart a flight.......
Tis all the Love I need
When you are the hand that feeds.............
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Caring and tender piece. from the heart