And the concept of time
Folding,
Like a
Warm blanket,
Cool sheet
Or a linen map
Contoured against your cheek.
That you can smooth
Straight or crease,
But never cheat.
Unlike the magician
Who pulls away
The table cloth
Quickly, but leaves
The cups, saucers and plates
In same place.
There is always a trace;
Google Earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem