cold front reached me
before sun rise today
gentle clouds mourned
no chirping bird show
leaves falling no snow
orange fruit on my hand
so beautiful for a man
people passing bundled
slower steps on ground
what could be thier mind
pondering as i waited for
my wonderful ride to come
should i ever miss i cry
maybe not i have a time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem