where are my friends
that roam this patch
of beautiful ground
were they tired of
young green shiny leaves
waving freely to breeze,
to swirling blades above
I feel softness of grass
touch my tendering heels
I keep moving towards hills
see clear ocean by tree line
freshness swoop down my lungs
I sit there enjoying ticks
of precious time with smile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem