Her room so lush,
her manoeuvre is, in hips to sing.
Inside the door hangs me,
color, hues, silk, fades
rightsized out I hang, to use.
The one of so many,
never used, she picks me, out.
Always, to lavish gifts that, crown
her achievements, that give.
I hold her up so proudly, jutting jets.
I hug her, lushly, I breath daily,
memories river, of milk..to gaurd..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem