I was late for my own execution
- the moon called me a buffon
and all the assorted dancing bears
- fixed me with their coldest stares
and demanded that I be sent home
I was late for my own tribulation
- on the road there I wore purple shoes
this drew the attention of style concious ferrets
- they just would not leave me alone
I was late for my own arrival
by the time I finally got there
- I was gone
I was late
yes
I was
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem