I see your face
before me
on the last summer page.
The long, seeding grasses
quiver sound
and I think
you have come to me.
It is the breeze
singing your presence
in the air.
I am knowing
your spirit grows
with the seeds
of soft sun
planted in my heart.
Sally Plumb
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem