If I can pull the sunset back to its hidden closet
Usher the storm in its concealed abode
And blanket the silhouette of sunrise before the tilting
Shadow of that leaning mountain.
In silent prayer
I swear
That your love
Will remain
Soaking in the canvas
Of my mourning, gripping and grappling
But praying heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a word to say I enjoyed your poem. loyd c taylor