Like those days
In my hand coffee cup
in the car, I drive
finally I arrive
in centre with papers
the same that had feared
might mean test and exam
of zero, restart
if not loss.
On the seats
at counters
may work to be me
have license.
At counter with my hi
we converse
“To drop these papers? ”
she questions.
That is all but I had
made it hell.
Poor is the unaware…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem