as always my thought is contained,
kept stowed for fridays.
though the gilded guise pertains
to poetry
none - the - less
its left for you
you being'
the sand that blew
painted patterns at my feet
the milkshake I enjoyed like a child-
the train, books and a movie
somewhere in time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem