now after that early morning church visit
as i keep on searching for words to keep this writing going
she comes home and keeps order over those blankets and pillows
in disorder, oh, the night was too messy, sleep is nil, and what
comes back to us is this thought: love is well kept in disorder.
disarray is too lovely.
her messy hair, and her much loved silence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem