Comfort Poem by Madrason .
Comfort
I touch your pale white skin
as if you were still there
the marble veins hold on to me
as if I am touched by mystery
I want to reunite right now
but I just don't know how
the seasons grow upon my love
and I will grow an old white dove
rook-oohing on your tumbled stone
rook-oohing for I'm left alone
but every day and very brave
I'll comfort us here at your grave. M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 9:36:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
