A little eye not made by man.
All woman seem to have.
Available to none our honey bees.
Clinging to my window butterflies.
If only screens were made back then,
rewound beyond tomorrow comes.
Voices heard inside my head they say.
Honey sweet the bread is made today.
e.d.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice piece and a fun to read. Lol cheers