Appeased hours.
We learn the colors
That don't exist in our language:
The hues of the quiet.
Slowly
We learn how to say
'Sorry', 'thank you'
With the soul in our mouth.
Hours as aged as our soul.
We realize we know a truth,
Not the truth.
---
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem