Sorting books with four hands
In the empire century room
Caressing the spines of stories
Accidentally told by lovers
To each other
We climb further the ladder
Sorting paper from leather
Sun sets in the high shelves
Shadows joined at the arms
As bodies dissolve in lower prose
Telling tales no-one but her
Will ever expose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Aloha Marcel... You got game! word up! truly fine post... I will be looking in on more of your thoughts... this is a great start for my evening session... happy I am to have found your words... All of the best from this life, to you, and all of your relations... Michaelw1two.