Three stanzas long,
four lines each.
If my poems were fruit,
they would be a peach.
Just enough words,
to wet your whistle,
If my poems were weapons,
they would be a missile.
But they are just words,
and sometimes a letter.
Fumbled together,
to make me feel better.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem