Sometimes I hope
for an asylum
in you a flower
not whiskey slums
of broken
promises
yet a faith
floating down red
roads of clay
where a spirit
of love
keeps my fall from
grace unlike that of
Jesus
seen only in a dream
from he
I am
at a cross road
looking for the one
that is
you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem