You are pure and finite -
An inch away from my Lovesick grasp.
Joy - herself - holds your young silk of hands
Obliviously oblivious to my hazel gaze.
Your butterfly lashes flutter on your blue diamond eyes.
Flutter - you do from me
All the way to a
Height of hope
That will never smile
Down
At
Me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem