I’m writing poems in midair
Of the feelings floating between
Put your head on my shoulder
Let time sleep away forever
I’m sketching all the beautiful things
Inside our setting scenery
And here you’ve left in me
An etched out memory
I’m only a wimp
Afraid to admit
I can feel the end of endings
Please don’t stammer for the door
We’ll sit on the carpet with our tea
And talk of old things
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i love the second stanza. i wish i had wrote that. :)