Sky kind of orange-brown
getting hot again
smell of burnt plants
on wind.
Trouble breathing long nights
twisted in damp sheets
can't escape heat
crickets calling
and a fan moving hot air
drown all the other noises.
Just leaves chest tight
mouth dry
and throat gummed up
trying to protect itself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
David nice poem I enjoyed it