there are other ways
many ways in fact
to create worlds,
some do it in hiding
the world is a corner
a nook of few clutters
some make another ocean
inside their cupped hands
when i talk to myself
when everyone else leaves
for their own homes
on delicate whispers of the
heart
i have too
a world of words
my own
home
on some but few
syllables...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem