Quietly reserved, a young teenager sits patiently in
a waiting room for his mother.
Scanning his environment, trying to not be so bored,
because in reality he has nothing to do to occupy his
mind.
Softly spoken, a young gentleman, filled with a
generous respect for those older than himself.
Having already read a book of my poetry and liking it,
I felt compelled just now to write a poem for him and
hope he enjoys it too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'm surprised a young teenager wouldn't have his cell phone with him and be buried in it. Having already read a book of my poetry. Your poetry?