I spread out my arms
ballerina-wide
to draw the drapes
on the soft hours,
but the comfort
of the sky
kissing the sun goodbye
in rose and gold fire,
lingered on my tongue
and stole my whispers
and carried them
over the horizon
and far away
wrapped in lace
on a milk-white horse
and
my arms
slipped to my side
in awe
and
I
didn’t.
(15 July 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a great craft from a trickled thought!