Every now and then, a cool breeze
in the spring. Gets me remembering.
Times of hitching. Think about that
man, named Smokey Joe. He became a
good friend to know. But, started
off as foes. When from under the
dash, he did pull and show, a gun.
Our lesson had begun. Luckily he was
a family man, who had a son. He was
making sure we wouldn't take, his
money and run. But, When sticking
out a thumb. You never know into,
what surprise, you'll come. First
encounter, thought death, had won.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful description how youth age kncks at the doors and what happens after that. A marvellous poem.
Thank you! .. Akhtar, For your very kind and thoughtful reply! .. Your poetry is ever so powerful and heart felt to read! .. Thank you! .. Many blessings! ..