when it is meant to be yours
it will be yours and it simply happens
without you doing anything as though
chairs move by themselves with the table
too and the plates and saucers and forks and
spoons and mantels and in a synchronized
motion they make a table for you and
there you sit with me with a rose
at the center with the candle lighting
us thorough: 'it is dinner time, my love'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow...chairs move by themselves with the table too...Very amazing expression of love shared really. Wisely drafted and shared.10