Waddling, she is.
And I want that waddle.
I want to be the uneven sidewalk beneath her undersized feet.
They are so small I can't believe she walks upright.
I'd expect
That girl
would crawl.
And I want her like warm rain
refrshing to the touch of my
unbuttoned
rain jacket.
Waddling rain,
come down.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem