There was a good friend I liked a lot
He likes to chat but not much
Unlike his son does, yet
He's full of charm
Unhurried
Slow
Steps
Looking
Backward
As he walked
Away, letting me
Catch a glimpse of
His face, showing me
The detail of bushy brows
Brilliant mirrors of two eyes
Affable wide snout for a device
Large puffy lips that could scowl
Or open like a cave taking a mouthful
It is never about a lack of time but attention
For what's important, we all end up doing a lot
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem