Belligerent, boisterous noise coming from a corner of the room.
Growing restless, wanting to move around or dance under the
disco ball 'til morning.
Speechless, just sitting and watching the excitement of the
crowd.
Waiting for a break in the noise, hoping to find some silence
to hide within.
A stillness unfolding in mirrored fiction for tomorrow's
morning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem