Tattoo On Her Wrist Poem by gary polonsky
Tattoo On Her Wrist
Tattoo on her wrist,
Not a number, thank God,
Nor a march in the mist
Of the heather and bog?
I couldn't quite read it,
Was it a verse?
Bling interceded,
Also, her purse.
No doubt it had meaning,
Dear to her heart,
Love intervening,
Never depart.
But depart I must,
She's a stranger, you see,
No reason to trust,
A poet like me.
Written in Ontario, Canada - 3rd May 2020
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 4:25:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
