In time it will come
Gray like in matter
Think-waiting to melt
Like whipped cream on coffee
Dulling the sharpness of the black
With floating bits
Of wisdom and worry
Starting at the top
Dripping down
To spend time in the middle
Changing color
Reaching for the bottom
But swimming to the top
Again it pours
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem