As a hammer, I am used for many things.
But my favorite, is the chance I get to meet you again.
Although we rest together on an tool belt, I get such a rush.
Running head first, driving you into the wood.
Though physical. I urgently desire nothing more than to be near you.
We were practically made for each other.
The both of our heads coming together as one.
The times we are apart.
I miss you desperately, though the comfort of home brings peace.
It doesn't mean a thing without you,
Here in this shed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very interesting. Can't decide if you're using a metaphor here for some sort of romance or if this is just kind of a fringe piece written in the perspective of a hand tool. Either way I enjoyed it