Vibrating fingers echo
Starting slow and ending fast, a reputation of breaths
A pulsing clock moving in snail’s motion
A melody in the silence
Fidgeting, no position feels acceptable
Humid hands locked together
Abdominal butterflies flicker
The heart and mind race together
Questions waiting to be solved
A beating bomb’s anticipation of implosion
Over exaggeration for an understatement
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is very well written with a great title. Good one. Hugs Anna xxx