Irony now seeps,
growing amused as it smiles then weeps.
Leaves one searching for skies less blue,
a vision appearing then fading from view.
Your soul grasping what you don't seek
and counting the days by each week,
Blindly catch or watch the fall,
come to claim or leave it all.
3-20-06
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem