Joy,
Is found in this piece of nougat, I eat.
The evening stroll, parading the street.
The cotton candy on a stick, that eve.
Chatter over coffee, and tea's mint leaf.
Joy,
Is walking atop that pier,
Confiding me your fear.
To throw your arms around me,
To hold my hand secured, freely.
Joy,
Is running behind you in the shallow sea,
Where the waves meet the shore eagerly.
Joy,
Like a bar of caramel milk chocolate,
Or a bag of warm roasted cacahuete.
Joy's name,
at times, would've been, Asilah.
Joy's name,
at times, could've been, Mehdiya.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Piccola, such a lovely write...............10++++++++++++++