Long, tall unsteadied,
calves shaking like a new born colt.
Long, flowing blonde hair,
fair flower child
received a kiss from Elvis.
She told me,
'I know Elvis. I know he's dead,
I don't feel His warm spot
on my hand anymore, He kissed
my hand there, you know...'
I thought, It's okay, Laura,
the King is everywhere.
Just pray to Elvis, and He will
steady your life, keep your
calves from shaking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem