The broken sound of home,
skirting your mind under a big sky
where you watch the wind blow
and you stack your odds against the snow.
All evaporates eventually
making the gamble not so steep.
But what if you already lost everything
on the one night you chose to stay in and sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Tessa. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks.