Freshener
Megan Fernandes wrote of LA.
Grills me from my toe to head
Take me to mountains far away
The stories I heard, or observed
Some fractured in a midsummer.
Branches and birds, insects on earth
Flying, crawling in bunch; gathered
The green Colour had many shades.
Wilderness resembled the Western
In way of the poet’s, “The Jungle”.
Time flew and passed, is long gone.
I search that horizon, for some thaw
And mountains printing as does ink.
Was any trail of pools, or pastures?
Under thick branches, we had booths
Saw woodpeckers tattooing the trees.
No mac and cheese then, no waiter
Everything came to me; far later.
There was empty of drunks and cars
Best we had, lost, is fresh, open air.
Thank you Megan for, taking me there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem