all slowly meandering past
over grown trees.
beautifully plumaged birds
free gazing down.
laughter leaves a small wake
that trails behind.
I am etching making my way
through our Eden.
c.e.mcl.~~~22~12~08
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
meandering stream gazing grazing mirrors of etched Eden..........laughter truly never leaves the wake-always ripples left behind...10+....enjoying the weave.