Romance and talent sit alone most time,
perched on fence posts looking towards
fresh new horizons, unfolding ideas and
thoughts like umbrellas.
There are no moods or fantastic spheres
to toss about.
Allowances are always made for debutante
flowers.
Whiling away vacant stares of inner
turmoil, love steps aside, finding being
alone is much more satisfying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem