February silence
A dead kind of silence.
In a deserted parking lot, blizzard just passed.
Echo of an empty bottle, winged seagulls.
Inside mitten, against my palm,
a letter wrinkled.
…I loved you…
but not now...not ever
…yet I still wish
to love…
Verbs in a short verse, no pause.
Between first and second line, wave ebbs.
Snow traps my mood
How I let it go, how I let it go …
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I loved you… but not now...not ever …yet I still wish to love… my mood changes into loving mood. ohhhhhh how shall I let it go. thank u dear poetess. tony