It was the way
the night wind
broke up the silence
into pockets of longing;
and for solace
and understanding
her eyes caressed
the wall of books
all known and loved
on the other side
of her yellow-wooded desk;
and she filled the desolate silences
between the dirges
of the wind’s mournful singing,
with their beloved words.
(3 August 2013)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
mournful singing, good write, thanks.