you are an embroidery
upon a cloth
and everyday your hand moves with
the needle and the colored threads
as you rely on the rhythm of your
life
the picture is incomplete
feelings creep like vines on a trellis
and one sunny day
be excited
a bud turns into a flower
a butterfly flutters and lands silently in one of your petals
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem