I'll whittle a heart out of ivory,
nearly pure as driven flake.
Latch it on shimmering serpentine,
slipped around your dainty neck.
Then, fixate a locket on chain and keep
your cameoed crown encased.
I can unclasp it whenever I'm lonely,
touch fingertips to your face.
Etch our initials on a sycamore tree,
up there; where the fireflies play.
Cut deep enough a generation can see,
then, forget us once we're away.
'Voice of One' @ Jerry Buckley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem