Last call
Warm days
passing to cold,
the nights seem
longer now,
content in
my dreams,
angels carry light
to my windowsill.
In few words,
nuance capturing
a gesture, a look,
before the neon dusk,
it's coming...
coming to us all,
'last call' when it's
time to go home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem