Stepping to forward
nor sliding to the side
of an ecliptic roundabout
aiming for a secure exit
Tumbling down a hill
steep slope pointing
down into grainy mud
with a chilling shower
Other ways of describing
what happened just then
is rather impossible as
there are no slides present
Alike the frozen pictures
of silent movie screens
this scene was cut out
of another sarcastic scenery
Sometimes even the sun
turns away when becoming
shy and brutally discarded
in each and every way
'Summer Time Of All Sorts' © Rob Knetsch 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem