she sits on a rocking chair
but she is not rocking it
her eyes stare at the sea without
a horizon
she spreads her legs looking
for a spot to
rest her toes,
he is out there looking at the sunset
his shadow is consumed
by darkness
he comes home
opens the PC and begins to write some poems
mostly about
funerals
unlike before
there were lots of sunrises everywhere as though
mornings are the only
seasons
he pauses, he hears the rocking of the chair.
the TV is off
he cannot find the letters to form the words.
he stares at the monitor
he is silent.
there is no break in this monotonous sound of silence.
he wishes he were a stone.
she wishes she is a bird.
one refuses to grow further.
the other wants to fly away, no matter where.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem