There comes a time and place
when all we have done
will show its face.
We wait, we watch
we explore.
What do our lives have in store?
A book is clearly written
deep within my head.
Should I keep it safely there,
Or write the pages instead?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write away my dear, write. For in the pages of the mind lay a story waiting to escape. A fine piece.