It's only natural to travel at ninety miles an hour
but with the sound of
"she died, " on the other line
the light turned off.
Blond and blue spots bounced in the air
the font of those words burned-
she forgot me
All the voices that pass by hang onto me
I try to brush them off
only to catch what they said,
"I'm so sorry"
is a rotten petal that falls
without grace
and the orange rays are cold
like snow on the pavement
I'm not sure if I should wonder
or wander or
make the bed today or
wait until tomorrow
maybe I will reread the last page
so I don't have to set the table
I could count the number of people
that walk by
and watch until they fade
because the air will remain gray
and the memories will always trickle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Straight from the heart. One can feel the intensity of pain flowing in the lines. Very nice Kait.