Three little lost hairs collected longingly
from a pillow
...priceless & precious.
One green & scintillating shinning sequin
fallen from a frock
...still sparkling with memory.
I know it’s got to stop
...but I can’t stop!
I collect such bric-a-brac
when all
I want
is
you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem