lit a match,
watched it burn
in the darkness...
the story of life?
a momentary glow
in the infinite night!
the smell of sulfur,
and fingers burnt...
holding the flame
too close!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If we stand too close to the trees we cannot see the forrest. You say much with just a little. Some great poetry Eric Jim Troy