This Time Poem by Wendy Dobro
This Time
I never needed to be here.
I never wanted to be heard.
I never spoke about that time in the mountains,
Or the way I felt when he looked at me.
Yet, somehow I made it here,
To this place,
This time.
The coyotes howl at night, you know,
Ringing in my ear.
And the moon always rises overhead.
My life is simpler now.
I don’t want for anything.
My eyes are quieter now.
My lips are kissed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 11:37:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
