Wind nipping at my skin
Chilling my soul
I have to run, leave
Hand prints, shoe marks
Quite visible now
Whooshing, whirring
Ring in my ears
Maybe it’s the wind
Passing me by
Or a bad memory
Reconfiguring in my head
This night will never leave me
Taking the purity of my thoughts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem