I have seen these clouds before
low, dark, swirling above shore
my feathered friends hurry home
trees creek, fallen leaves comb
waves whip rocks so mercilessly
bubbles popping going back sea
I seek shelter to an old bunker
almost covered with grass curl
no light but very clean to sit
an old rocking chair at corner
reminding me of me when sober
and I wish you're here together
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem