Sitting at a table, looking around at the past, talking with
my sister, and best friend.
Waiting, searching, hesitant conversation, not knowing what
to say to each other.
A somewhat timid atmosphere as we sit and eat our lunch,
testing ground, sort of reaching out, trying to find a common
source and continue eating in a quiet, peaceful kind of aura.
Touching the sensitivity of each other and keeping within
ourselves, learning the boundaries of discussion slowly.
Feeling close to the surroundings, reveling in their
antiqueness and gentle bearing.
Feeling, there is a sense of caring, loving, as we continue
our repast and sharing.
Leaving the Spagetti Company somewhat hesitantly, walking
through the misty, damp rain to the truck.
A somewhat tenuous feeling stirs within and we leave, each
of us to pursue the rest of our day.
Sitting at a table and to pursue the rest of our day we should read such lovely poem on the desk. Nice one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Experiencing all peaks and troughs through the journey of life it becomes slow and hesitant with maturity. Very rightly being expressed here as Waiting, searching, hesitant conversation, not knowing what to say ... Thanks for sharing the feeling.